A twilight walk along the cliffs —
black and ochre layers,
rocks cracked and split, tempered
through eons at Land’s End,
dimensions of friendship. The infrasound
of wind turbines poised on Starfish Hill
in tune with our stories of almost forty years.
We’ve never seen the sea
so still, a silk sheet, grey
as the shadow-clouds above the cape.
Our eyes track the ferry across Backstairs Passage
from the lighthouse to Kangaroo Island.
In the saddle between the hills
a kangaroo and his mate stand guard.
We, bereft of mates through death and divorce,
linger, don’t want to turn in
for the night yet, release the day’s
findings, the fish carcass in the sand,
the smell of rotten flesh and bait —
We have never seen the whole horizon,
a wide-angle view, the earth so round.
Martha Landman writes in Adelaide, South Australia, where she is a member of Friendly Street Poets. Her work has appeared in online journals and in print in US, UK and Australia. Her chapbook, Between Us, is available from Ginninderra Press.