from The Blue Room Inventory
Leanne Ellul
On blue
What is the measure of this blue that’s birthed us?
Will I be by your side, I ask.
Will I be languid. Will I be azure. Or blue.
Touch me once for azure.
Touch me twice for blue.
I know you’ll go for blue, you see.
I watch your savage clawing
the way you ravish pillow and taut muscle.
I haven’t starched the sheets.
And what you want to say,
what you’d like to say is that the sheets are blue as night.
The only way we are exalted
will be as weight on these blue sheets.
And the bundled smell of you pierces me through.
On “there”
There is the sky showering me with stars
the guileless colour of your mother’s milk
and the bay overflowing with red sand
waiting for us to bury ourselves there.
There is this bay waiting to feel
the wholesome pressure of our warm footfalls.
Whenever we let go, I heard,
there the sea froths forth and
dies for you a little and for me.
What is the measure of this blue that’s birthed us?
Will I be by your side, I ask.
Will I be languid. Will I be azure. Or blue.
Touch me once for azure.
Touch me twice for blue.
I know you’ll go for blue, you see.
I watch your savage clawing
the way you ravish pillow and taut muscle.
I haven’t starched the sheets.
And what you want to say,
what you’d like to say is that the sheets are blue as night.
The only way we are exalted
will be as weight on these blue sheets.
And the bundled smell of you pierces me through.
On “there”
There is the sky showering me with stars
the guileless colour of your mother’s milk
and the bay overflowing with red sand
waiting for us to bury ourselves there.
There is this bay waiting to feel
the wholesome pressure of our warm footfalls.
Whenever we let go, I heard,
there the sea froths forth and
dies for you a little and for me.
translated from the Maltese by Albert Gatt