Gwen Harwood

In the space between love and sleepwhen heart mourns in its prisoneyes against shoulder keeptheir blood-black curtains tight.
Body rolls back like a stone, and risenspirit walks to Easter light;
away from its tomb of bone,
away from…

To Vivian SmithA child one summer's evening soakeda glass jar in the reeling sunhoping to keep, when day was doneand all the sun's disciples cloakedin dream and darkness from his passion fled,
this host, this pulse of light beside his…

The tenth day, and they givemy mirror back.
Who knowshow to drink pain, and live?
I look, and the glass showsthe truth, fine as a hair,
of the scalpel's wounding care.

So hungry-sensitive that hecraves day and night the pap of praise,
he'll ease his gripes or fingerpaintin heartsblood on a public page.
The ordinary world must bealtered to circumvent his rage.
He'll tell, with stylish Angst of…

To Rex
Wind crosshatches shallow water.
Paddocks rest in the sea's arm.
Swamphens race through spiky grass.