When I recently asked for poetry recommendations after showing you a poem by Pablo Neruda, my mother responded by giving me The Bee Hut, a collection of poetry by the late Dorothy Porter. Oh, how it sears into me. I’m only halfway through, but I see echoes of my own thoughts and rhythm in Porter’s free verse, and her words, images, and meanings dance beside the swirling choices currently speeding towards me in life.
Here’s just one of Porter’s poems that I’ve found myself rereading this week:
II. What a Plunge!
This morning the street
like salt in a happily healing
A memory breaks under
and plunges you
in turbulent sweet water.
Life is so dangerous,
but this morning you can take
right to the sparkling shore.
You can bear knowing
the street will one day dump you.
* * *
Not everything in my life, however, is centred on thoughts and possibilities catching in my throat. I’m spinning from intense conversations to silver moments of peace and solitude to rapid-fire repartee with friends such that we cannot speak for laughing.
There’s been cackling with E.Moonbeams over Upside Down Dogs.
Brunch with Christina at Farmers Daughter, where we were given free samples of the café’s new cold drip. It was beautifully smooth and strong, but the highlight was when Christina picked up her glass of cold drip with its enormous ice cube, took a sip, and screeched “IT’S COLD!”
Chatting with Deb, who never fails to make me laugh while also, somehow, always creating opportunities for me to make incredibly inappropriate jokes that she then quotes me on for her status updates. Mum, if you saw that on Facebook… I apologise. I swear, we were only talking about chlamydia in the context of koalas.
And sometimes, when I’m missing Jeniqua with all my heart, I think about all the things that made our friendship as strong as diamonds. Like chocolate.
You see, this is Jeniqua before chocolate.
And this is Jeniqua with chocolate.
Question Time: What do you think of cold drip coffee? Gimmick, or delicious?