Poems from Remote Harbour

Kyle Allen

5 

i have known you in a falling plane 
a child looking at the sky 
and a tree drinking water 

i have known you in a collapsing wall 
a lifted leaf 
wet clothes stuck to skin 

i have known you in stones 
thrown to reach the other side 
of pain 

i have known you navigating in lost islands 
palm trees and ships drift in the wind of death 
slow borders and the tired seas 

i have known you in rough outlines 
the sun begins to warm 
and open doorways wet with rain 

i have known you in footsteps 
white voices of the moon 
echoes on the brown soil of your garden 

11  

i apologise to the moon 
for not talking to you 
these days 
  

the road has eyes 
long exhalations 
reaching to the sea 
  

the light has long arms 
that touch the earth 
blindly like lips 
listening for the rain 

a river of madness 
looking for your umbilical cord; 
the day moves on the edge of this life 
things change slowly when you breathe 
  

the broken listen to the sound 
of the wet mist at night 
and see ghosts 
and ancient wars replay 
  

the silent count unseen stars 
heavy like water 
in their dreams 
crowds of blind dreamers 
treading the earth 
sudden wars 
  

the landscape is filled 
with images of God 
houses with open doors 
gaping at the sky 

there are fences wet in the dawn 
places of broken sun 
hungry 
children seeing the fallen dreams 
of abandoned spirits 
  

there are reflections of you 
hiding 
in fragments of water 
restless armies 
walking the earth 
in search of your eyes 

14  

i can't say i’m innocent 
like when we walked among the butterflies 
with stones on our feet 
  

i run along the rivers where the razorblades are washed 
the veins where you dipped your toes 
are in search of the coldness of metal going south 
  

i want to know you like i used to –  
a sun dipping into night suddenly, 
the belt tight around our waists 
  

i follow the clouds as they go away with my life 
i trace your toes in water 
looking for the sun and the streets of another city filled with old walls 
  

i’m pure like water 
the mirror shouts 
while i wait inside your bedroom 
  

i’m so cold 
the sun screams in your eyes 
there is no pyramid like love, no book like your body my conscience says 
  

we made a festival city in our room once 
we watched people pass below like ants 
the betrayals continued but we knew each other 
  

there were furious sounds in your eyes 
when you told me stories about your old lovers 
who stuck your paintings in the dark room 
  

you banged a drum inside my car 
you were wearing a blue dress 
it was open at your neck 
  

i stare at the sky for days seeing new words 
i write in my diary the smell of burning wedding ribbons 
i hide your broken shoes under my carpets to hear your 10pm sigh 
  

i take lessons from the internet and old friends 
i ask God and strangers how i can see your eyes 
over the telephone 
  

i stand on bridges at night seeing history 
we could say nothing until we measure 
our silent names in the cool water that runs south 
  

your shoes are beautiful but get worn by walking 
your hands have no eyes 
but read my heart from another suburb by a delicate fence 
  

the days are getting longer 
the sun is large inside my hand 
the sea is bending under our feet 
  

each time we reach for innocence, we travel far, 
we forget our names for days 
there are wounds with eyes which have seen the light step of pain on yellow doors    
  

there’s a tear in your blue jacket through which the sky falls out  
your face is where this story ends like a crevice 
your heart a stone where stories crack into what remains of hope 
your eyes are the hard door which the sharp light of tomorrow knocks on  

26   

no one wants to read 
the spread knives of 
your backbone today 
and the arrows in your ribs 
 
poetry is swallowed by your ears 
and memories drown 
the towns have heard Gods names 
advertised too often 
 
light i have been told 
is a name far away 
from truth 
or desire 
 
a mirror in the sun 
is the same as a bleeding fist 
your skin is soft 
under your minds shell 
 
our cords were severed 
from the oceans 
you plant foamy flowers 
in my eyes 
 
we have secret names 
for the old streets 
we follow the rivers 
our bodies water goes blankly south 
 
the healers cry on waves edges 
they stay underwater for hours 
searching the lost countries 
whose histories drowned 
 
your rib bones a boat where our hearts 
catch fish 
you wake up walking the beach sand 
on the field of glittering salts 
 
the knives in your past 
moan like calcium 
the moon makes images in your blood 
your mother warned you about 
 
your face is blank beyond expression 
the sky is gutted by mirrors  
your hair a sail 
chased by the dark birds behind the sun 
 
you fire arrows into the dusk 
in the distant ocean 
the ships catch fire 
and take our burning names away 
into the night 

29 

the clouds at 10pm 
pass your house 
bringing the rain  
  

the moon is round 
and leaks memory 
like a wound 

 
the wind brings us the dark 
you hold it in your hands 
when you go indoors 
  

the sky is heavy 
it brings the years with it 
heavy as rain on the roof 
  

night moves slowly  
through the holes of time 
this river between us is dark 
  

our hands are heavy; 
they have broken the sky 
until the earth opened inside our hearts