Melon field

Melon field


I needed to rinse
this of me

this immense sorrow
that I’d been carrying.

It was there
in the dewy pastel melons

under a molten summer sun
over the crackle art of dried mud

after I’d swum
dripping wet

I’d wandered here
wringing myself over the melons

my hair, my eyelashes too

I became dew,

watched sorrow evaporate
into a fine vapour

watched it shimmer
on the wings of red dragon flies
fluttering past

like a susurrus of lovely autumn leaves.