through the halo burnt mirror …
autumn leaves crackle
brown dust skids off paths
and an assortment of hibiscus
dangles raggedly
==
the lady in my bedroom
puts herself together every morning
after a hard night of dismantling herself
in the presence of others
I study the performance of reconstruction
I turn on my fiction add
magic to my agenda
to the long tall efforts
of ballooning upwards
and through the halo burnt mirror I reach
the scorched-high peaks
of ripening – where rainbows
are part of the hydroponics mix
where skies experimental
swap a humpbacked crowdedness
==
the lady in the bedroom
drinks coffee eats biscuits
complains she is still too fat
still too restricted by the company she keeps
==
I open my roof like a tin lid
for the hot air to get out
the birds to get in
a jacaranda shatters the windows
and paints the daylight purple
today the intention
is to visit the lake
to visit the red house on the corner
where I’m the only customer
==
after the sun has dropped off the tourist map / the shelf / the clock
the lady sniffs out her bedroom
nothing shows
reciprocates
the darkness
gropes about
for its rightful place in the queue
*Iain Britton's third collection was published in 2009 by Oystercatcher Press Kilmog Press (NZ) his 4th in 2010. The Red Ceilings Press published an ebook 10 Poems earlier this year. Forthcoming collection with Lapwing Publications due out in January.
