New Poems by Rebecca Kylie Law

By John Frederick Kaufman on May 4, 2014

[Today I’m pleased to present three new poems by Australian poet Rebecca Kylie Law. The poems were submitted to The Afternoon Journal and are published for the first time. Please note the copyright: All rights reserved.]

For St Francis of Paola, Hermit

In the afternoon becoming night,

noticing small ribbed shells

the shape of petals, reminding

myself not to pick them up

for the inconvenience of not

returning home directly, I looked

instead at the silhouettes

of two figures standing on the precipice

of a granite rock jutting

out just as the bay curves

round to invisibility. It

seemed strange that in the

approaching dusk their shadows

had already been cast head

to foot. And then jumping feet

first into the water, their

arms flailing, daylight returning

to their calves, stomaches, then in it’s

entirety. A sleep forgotten.

Later that night, my mind

in the woods of Schumann, his

lonely blue flowers and yellowing

Autumn, I lay my head

on a freshly laundered pillow,

a grey loose weave rug about

my shoulders and drew my

hands together, the tips of my

fingers to my lips. You never grow out

of owls. Their wide-eyed blinks and

moist irises, their round steady pupils,

the swoon of their beaks from a high tree

and half-smiles. “Ne m’oubliez pas”

in our prayers, “ne m’oubliez pas”.

— by Rebecca Kylie Law

Whilst the Hourglass

Here

birthdays come

as the practise song

of anonymous birds;

and day is the almost

blue of sky.

The brother or the sister-

They have turned older

in another Capital

and I am waking to the memory

of tandem bicycles or mini-

frights in surfacing the waves.

Last night, walking

down the street

behind my flat

I looked for the first

time at the rooms

of my neighbours

lit up in strong lamplight

and I felt as though

I was rambling over

love. Then tonight

the idylls of birds

still anonymous, air-

bound, a paling sky

before the true darkness

and candy striped candles

that light up a face.

I tie you a ribbon.

— by Rebecca Kylie Law

Excerpt From The Secret

My dreams have no land

though seem peopled

as flowers grow in this

manner of sporadicity:

Myself within and once

a cloud wide as rectangles

can be, was It –

then a clamouring of forms

not distinct as bodies

gathered about like the

flowers again, for their petals

(which was really, better

to love and be loved

forever mindful, these nights

of cloud-kissing, how it

truly epitomises the making

of a scene). In the beatitude.

— by Rebecca Kylie Law

Rebecca Kylie Law is a Sydney based poet, essayist and reviewer. Published by Picaro Press, her poetry collections include “Offset”, “Lilies and Stars” and “The Arrow & The Lyre”. Other publications include thewonderbook of poetry, Notes for The Translators, Poems for the Young Chinese Adult, Best Poem Journal, Virgogray Press, Australian Love Poems 2013, Southerly, Westerly, Rochford Street Press, The Australian, The Euroscientist Ezine, Poetry Pacific and The Lake. She holds a Masters Degree in Poetry from Melbourne University.