SOPHIA ARGYRIS

The Blackbird Is Stuck On Alarm

This is neither the lip nor the centre

just a point on the earth's fascia

where you landed and settled.

Sky stretches through everything 

even the space within your body

is filled with it, so the red kite circling

eyeing the hedge for small movement

also spirals inside your ribs. The river

that passes the village also moves 

sideways through your waist.

You can still feel the cow with bony hips

and jutting shoulders that stepped 

past your window in Pai years ago,

how her hooves hit the mountainside.

If the future is waiting, the past 

and present co-exist. When you lift

your chin in frustration at the daily

boredom of repeated tasks, 

you also sit in the absolute dark of a cave,

listening to your companions sing.

You jump from a boat

to an Orkney pier in your teenage

body that held both more

and less fear than this.