Poetry
By Susan Laura Sullivan
Hot Peanut Paste Night
First published in Rats Ass Review, Volume 3, Issue 1
The drunks and me
out on this peanut paste
heat night you can smell it
the peanut paste there’s
no getting through it as
thick and heavy as it is wrapped
tight round my shoulders like
a shawl it flaps in the wind it
makes as my bike cuts through this
early this morning late this night
sleep won’t pin the lids of
my eyes together and for all I know
the time could be the time to go
home but I’m not no I haven’t
drunk like the drunks drunk with
an excuse to be out so I ride to
avoid to observe them and it’s
at the shrine where I feel I shouldn’t
be doing what I’m doing and
I’m only walking
it’s at the shrine where I wash one
hand in water from the spout of the dragon’s
mouth and then the other
it’s at the shrine where the light
from the telephone shines globally saying
call me! call me! I’m still awake, but
the roosters I’m sure were asleep before I
came the roosters of the shrine who
start crowing as I walk footstep
soft on the concrete leading to
the big building the roosters who
call as I sit shadow breath
scared on the steps to one another
and the other and any
moment now I know a holy man
will walk in the gravel and disquiet
me with footsteps that will quiet
the birds and ask what I’m doing
on the steps there shadow breath
scared at no time at all
on this hot paste night.
First published in Rats Ass Review, Volume 3, Issue 1
The drunks and me
out on this peanut paste
heat night you can smell it
the peanut paste there’s
no getting through it as
thick and heavy as it is wrapped
tight round my shoulders like
a shawl it flaps in the wind it
makes as my bike cuts through this
early this morning late this night
sleep won’t pin the lids of
my eyes together and for all I know
the time could be the time to go
home but I’m not no I haven’t
drunk like the drunks drunk with
an excuse to be out so I ride to
avoid to observe them and it’s
at the shrine where I feel I shouldn’t
be doing what I’m doing and
I’m only walking
it’s at the shrine where I wash one
hand in water from the spout of the dragon’s
mouth and then the other
it’s at the shrine where the light
from the telephone shines globally saying
call me! call me! I’m still awake, but
the roosters I’m sure were asleep before I
came the roosters of the shrine who
start crowing as I walk footstep
soft on the concrete leading to
the big building the roosters who
call as I sit shadow breath
scared on the steps to one another
and the other and any
moment now I know a holy man
will walk in the gravel and disquiet
me with footsteps that will quiet
the birds and ask what I’m doing
on the steps there shadow breath
scared at no time at all
on this hot paste night.
|
echigo (snow country)
only yesterday persimmons on the tree blackened in the season’s shadow, a bicycle knee-boot-deep in snow became conjecture. and now the day loosens winter’s scapular, branches warm against the sky. * stepping out from behind the moon, light plies like taffy twists the drawn flesh of the day with a child’s unpractised hand, a great aunt’s bony grip. mottled and ragged the bloom admired under watchful eye. yet snow on the mountains dust on the floor gardens yield to an imperceptible score. before spring snow falls seven times. *Note: 越後では 七雪降って 春来たる Echigo de ha nanayuki hutte haru kitaru Echigo (old name for Niigata) Before spring comes (in the old calendar, in February) snow falls seven times. |
Susan Laura Sullivan has been published across a variety of genres, including poetry and short stories. She co-edited the award winning anthology, Women of a Certain Age (Fremantle Press, 2018), and her unpublished novel was shortlisted for the T.A.G. Hungerford Award in 2012. Her photography accompanied Jane Joritz-Nakagawa's poems in Plan B. Audio (Isobar Press, 2020). Her work has most recently appeared in the GALE Journal and Limina: A Journal of Historical and Cultural Studies. Co-founder of the Toyohashi Writers Group, Susan has also taught creative writing at tertiary and community levels, and currently teaches humanities at Tokai University.
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