SPOTLIGHT: The Dredging of Rituals by Louise Mather


Jasmine orbs,
jolts of pink,
where gravity rasps
shocks of origin.
You unbridle a scarf
of heliotrope
from the mandolin,
crane sky-clad
to canvas. Babbling
orchids, tiny beads, sweet
pomegranate capers –
you storm them
to saliva.

Bells of Nemi

Sole polemic blade
of clover antiquarian

leather scorpion
within dynamite chicanery

pinned to tartarean
by the bells of Nemi

estuaries have left
no verse

of inferno
retracing steps

the huntress and the deer
and the leech

legions of eucalyptus ravelling
from the copse

journals of eroded quantum
entanglement embossed

gunmetal eyes
and gleam

my hands mould
into yours

a requiem
for triquetra


she waited for the snow to harbour
bewitched by somnolentia

she ripped ivy with her thumbs
unleashed apple bark

plummeting in ringlets
flecks of lace

she bit the tallow
down to the roots

spat thread and trussed molasses
burnt to the other side

of the candle

buried long ago
were they humming

could they be free of convulsions

she asked about the trigger
whether the word


meant archaic
numbness or trauma

she didn’t know where
to put them

returned to the lilac bough
asphyxiated with callous rain

bricked leaves wrenched with gales
nothing if not upended

how could she tell
if they were alive

for the beholder of logic
the delusion of languor

she knew that if she was dead
there could still be a sense

of something other than

in the debris
as the world continued to move

either way
they would be carried along with it


Copper spoons,
breaths of sediment,
like the first few days
when you are older.

The ache of masts,
bowls of mandarin;
the crick of the lid
off the chiffonier.

You take a small cup,
sulked with raspberry –
a residue of magnesium
or calcium curd.

It shingles your
thorax, slugs
wounds and ducts –
where they are kept.


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