I could steal your pink salmon,
cry chilli and onion
in a fragment thought of you
I could peel back layers
revealing flesh
and more flesh
and the tears of knowing
I could walk oceans,
tread water and knead
the happy dough
I could paint lips
hot and red,
bite them softly
If you were here
The chilli would
no longer cry
The onion would
Peel itself in waiting
and I, the white native
would kneel
and kiss life
Matthew Campbell 29th June 2003 |