out, running to stand still,
waiting for Venus – first up,

letting the purpling do its work,
sunshine seeping into pillow,

dreams translating the warmth,
slinking down, eyes along

the surface, drowning in cuts of
blue and silver and sunshine,

bled of urgents, the purpling,
keeping the words from the damp,

brittle as kindling, stacked
neat and ready ‘neath the

galvanised tin of hope,
doing the work, licking silence,

drowning in horizon and
soft focus, rolling meaning in

the absence of a tongue,
the purpling, left-hand fingers

up and down the neck, mantra
of memory, right hand

drawing out breves for now,
letting, cool torso of

Salmon Gum, holding this tree,
brailling its oneness, its purpling,

in the park, rusted songs of swings
just vacated, memories

of play and flight, letting
the purpling do its work