Aubrey


I listen for a heartbeat
in the jade-green vein,
touch it through the shifting
skin of rhombus glass
that catches the sun.

I listen for a heartbeat
in her ancient bones,
the copper and olive age spots
flake under my touch
and smells of damp.

I listen for a heartbeat
in the fresh-washed body,
the black velvet wrinkling folds mould
around my fingertips
and broken tree nails.

I listen for a heartbeat
in the creaking sinews,
groaning as she breathes a sigh
of a thousand symbols
green-gold above me.

I listen for a heartbeat
in her daily musings,
the chittering of squirrels and
the stuttered rapping
of woodpeckers.

I listen for her heartbeat
in her blushing face,
I light a dancing fire to warm her
she dresses in her finest
jewels and perfume.

I listen for her heartbeat
in the fire
in the moon
in the dark
in the loon
that swims in the river roots that pass me by.

She beats
in my blood.

© christine DINGLEY 2011

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