by Elizabeth TrewLondon – Johannesburg
Once more I visit out of season
turn my web on London grass
and walk through cones of primrose light
by sheds of water opening the drowned canal.
I find you in the river’s bow
stringing flags to welcome me.
On the bridge you pass me by on roller blades
turning shoes with tiny keys.
On the stairs you brush my coat with lemon stars.
Sipping every voice of you
I drench my boots with snowdrop lids
let my litmus lift and turn the wheel
across our world, my leaving you.
My exiled days return to you,
nudge my certain landing rush
towards your open cosmos eye
through gold-reef doorways city deep.
Under the bridge I touch your scars and broken lips.
On the hill my trumpet vines
reveal the ruby blare of you.
I tap the mourning earth
replace my roots,
I line my river paths with river feet
the spirit flow of you,
return my bedrock dance to you,
my coming home.