Glass
Janiru Liyanage
outside, two children pull the
wind back under their t-shirts
smoulder & smoke
into two fat fists of need
bring their hands down in bars of
light & drink from their reflections
if you listen closely, you can hear
the gravity lift off their thighs like
sad music; the kind that makes you
want to forget, the kind that keeps
your eyes locked on the moon’s open
jaw for hours – they have always
wanted to be the clot of blood you
dawn and sharpen in your hands
ripe nubs of azaleas for mouths,
they kiss the gods their feet
learnt to worship: the soft
dirt, foxglove, grass
this is the forest where they became
mythless again & inside, they nailed
their bodies to its dark
long / winged / &
faultless as the throat of god
snow ashes / snow breaks
& snow lifts / Go ahead / tell god of
your marble voice, the light
see what He will do
don’t be fooled: what you love
most must be untouchable / there
is no tender omen to describe this