Rebecca Kylie Law is a Sydney based poet, essayist and reviewer. Published by Picaro Press, her poetry collections include “Offset”, “Lilies and Stars” and “The Arrow & The Lyre”. Other  publications include thewonderbook of poetry, Notes for The Translators, Best Poem Journal, Virgogray Press, Australian Love Poems 2013, Southerly and Westerly. She was short-listed for the Judith Wright Prize in 2012 and holds a Masters Degree in Poetry from Melbourne University. 

Across a thickened sky, vain glory

I had, in my mind,
horse-racing and suitable
weather for personal taste

when, after a late storm,
galahs took to the sky
like pink-bellied doves,

the lightness their flock achieved
remarkable – though incidentally,
those tufted crowns revealing 

character, never did smooth over
in their flight; and passing by my window
seemed one space, the body another.

In Pleasant Weather

To talk to my neighbour
I look down on her
from a height not as immense
as it seems, her position
in an open field
of cut-grass somehow diminutive
beside a double-storey
weatherboard and clothesline.

We have forty years
between us, my own
erring on the side of young;
and I enjoy watching
the wind pass through
her grey hair for its
reception,  it’s only the sun
she shades with her left hand
to her eyebrow line

talking of kookaburras,
the possums I saw
running on a ridge line
of her terracotta tiles,
swooped in play
by magpies, her delight
at this, that the possums
were back and she hadn’t
been sure. Then my own
silence catching the pale blue,
the porcelain of my tea-cup’s
handle, my own wind
on the balcony. And this

as an ending or perhaps it was
two lives realising the hour.

If I Did

My friend said he’d rock up 
on the shoreline with the baskets
drunk on wine and banter,

That I could throw the fishes
from the sand and he’d wobble the boat
to catch them in, 

That I wasn’t to forget the bread,
though I’d never, loving it so,
and we’d carry the load

To the tressel tables,
throw out the white cloths
with sagacious smiles,

That  I would help him leave,
release the boat and push,
he said, push: by now, it being night

I’d stop with a sadness,
he’d call it a sky of stars
and we’d snigger, ‘oh you’, ‘oh you’.

***

I’d like to sincerely thank Rebecca for the honour of publishing these amazing poems for the first time on here.

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