Copihues

Where you were, the clouds are now bruised lilac 

in the shape of your lips.

Violet contusions that map where stars now meet

in remembrance of your body. 

When it’s dark I write a requiem for you

[and all the breathless others]

in a language long forgotten.

My vowels of blood and consonants of flesh

cast as the sangoma’s bones onto paper damned to perish.

Your wings are woven deep red

with white speckles we see from below

only as you soar above. Predator of peace

burnt pink in the image of the copihue, 

rare as the kisses that now wilt where you were

—the clouds bruised lilac

in the shape of your lips.

fin.

You can read more of Kathryn’s poetry here.

This poem was first published in JANE PRIVÉE