by Leila Lois
’...the very springs, the very orchards here were calling for you.’ -Virgil's Eclogues, Part I Amaryllis lean to sun, burst stars of sparkling pink, crimson veins; blood upon marble. Naked ladies with glossy stems, bright and bare, sit aflame in the orangery, sweet, citrus jasmine scent of mock -orange on the wind. In a vat, I could squeeze petals for days, only to extract a tiny drop press it on my wrists and behind my ears or drip amaryllis oil into my eyes, dilate pupils like night stretches across sky, unfolds its dark shroud, my crimson gown. I could see you everywhere; sundial shadow, moving swing, a fallen book, broken spine on red tiles An underground spring bled up through stone, leaked into cold -room where we stored meat. By the wall, yew, dark lover, above where pets were archived in tiny plots: Tabby, Ginger, Lulu. Lilies all weighed down, turned away. Life is an empty urn without you. Leila Lois is a dancer and writer of Kurdish and Celtic heritage who has lived most of her life in Aotearoa, based now in Naarm/ Melbourne. In her poems, Leila explores a personal sense of origin that, like the ocean, binds several landscapes and times, coming back to the idea that a timeless, boundless love pervades. Her publishing history includes Southerly Journal, Djed Press, NoD Literary Journal, Next in Colour, Lite Lit One, Bent Street Journal and Delving into Dance.
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by Kye Lay
Blue bottles Washing up A shore assures The message inside To be thrown again Into the abyss Kye Lay is a meanjin based multi-media artist @klaypoetery + Kye Lay on youtube |
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May 2024
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