Bronwen Tate

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THREE POEMS FROM YOUR SISTER FACE

 

AWAITING

My attention’s fixed, but you’re distant as if by artifice, all
color muted.  Vouchsafe that harmlessness pass me over. 
Allocate a little yellow, a gradually chronic underbelly, a
stabbing at the slightest breeze. The footsteps of your
beloved like a hangman, I discern. Canary, come to me like
your yellow, all suddenness. In the small lagoon of my
drifting ear, a brightening.