Beheld & Lull : Two Poems – Emily Kate Hastings

Beheld

Five

I felt rope under the ground.

I crouched, followed down with my hands

Under the bed, deep into earth below Our House,

The body knew to mourn before I knew, years ahead from now.

Four

That week I cried, couldn’t have known why the corner, by the lamp on the

Four years from then inhabitants splayed out across Earth.

I cried during your births you know, before I flew back to get my mail and to show you my swollen face.

You blipped, saw the future that day. 

Three

Once you reached in deep, into earth to get my shoes

packed mud up to my knees, laughing.

I thought I knew the path.

And the useless friend sat in England’s tree trop, smirking at the rescue.

We washed ourselves in the cool farmer’s stream (1), in the Portuguese pond (2), in more than one ocean (3).

We washed and saw each other.

Two

The Earth sweltered and shivered that year to the fingertips of Nepal. 

I’d bartered hiking boots, I told the phone.

Maybe you’re the one, you said;

I laughed and said I think we’d know. 

With eyes closed, I swam butterfly-netting your dreams book, split your head open in the sparkling Canadian snow

laughing then not laughing.

the One

Spirit charging, body slumped

Some days it all bleeds together, but let the record be lucid

You went back into that house

and denied there was a sun.

Lull

Clinking empty can in my Shanghai share-bike basket.

Gently rattles,

Pleasant as a summer wind that

nudges hanging lanterns, chimes across

a field of breathing grass.

I almost remember apricity, when

she didn’t drop me off that day and

took me home instead.

South Shaanxi cooling Fuxing Lu,

Clunking can in the late-night Calm.

Like the clanging of the old electric

fan; we were dazed in that

corner shop in Laos

in the heat heat heat.

Table for one in Luang Prabang, I’d

observe a blonde woman kneel,

Peek into her young son’s face,

And teach,

Faint European tongue floats over

the slow sounds of the outdoor cafe.

and I ring with longing.

Shivering, but

Steady pedal into the night,

gentle rattle soothes like her tender

reprimand.

Cover: Fujishima Takeji

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