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The Love Chair

The woodworker walks the stand of camphor laurel.  She knows
the trees' passion: their leaves as familiar as her hands; their 
growth as tranquil as the evolution of her love.

She dreams green's rubric: trees one-and-a-half women 
high; the air showered with wheatgrass-green leaves; a 
branch as thick as her forearm on the ground.

Mystery guides her hands.  Her fingers circle the axe's 
solid handle & the blade arcs through the air.  The axe's 
bit, its sharp edge, reveals the white wood.

Her trade tools speak to her: the murmur of 
metal plane over roughness; nails sing the 
          hammer's orchestration.

Later, the woodworker walks around the 
chair.  Love emeralds her eyes as her lover's 
hair waterfalls over the back and sides.
 


Explosive Words

1.
The first page of a new year starts with 
pyrotechnics.  Midnight rockets combust 
the previous year's hardback cover.  At other 

times though, in any week, month or decade, 
books are like our metal friends – as a bullet
is a full-stop defying gravity, poems are 
explosive words deferring death.

2.
Go inside a book like you look into the eyes of 
a pretty-faced wallaby.  You feel the warmth of 
bibles, unbartered words, poems that spark fires.

A bed-side lamp halos a table of books.  These
words burn life's cold laughter, the letters a 
healing salve for the broken-hearted.
 

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About the author:

Peter Mitchell

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Peter Mitchell is the author of the poetry chapbooks, Conspiracy of Skin (Ginninderra Press, 2018) and The Scarlet Moment (Picaro Press, 2009). He writes poetry, memoir, short fiction and literary criticism. His writing has been published in international and national journals and magazines.

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