Jill Jones

1961 - / Australia

Interspersed

Night’s sheet
weighs heavy
bearing the safety
of sleep
troubles us less
with quiet.
We love slowly
at the changing surface
of the world.
You carry me
through ground level
hands scoop up
the fall the air
of my doubt.
Walls break their habit
crumbling
as we talk
through them.
Still
something delicate
we negotiate
softer than
a thigh’s width
on the sheet.
The wind is black
a cold surge
night’s plan
over-runs the balcony
rain is clean
steel on the roof.
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