Janiru Liyanage

outside, two children pull the  
wind back under their t-shirts  

smoulder & smoke  
into two fat fists of need


bring their hands down in bars of  
light & drink from their reflections  

if you listen closely, you can hear  
the gravity lift off their thighs like  

sad music; the kind that makes you  
want to forget, the kind that keeps  

your eyes locked on the moon’s open  
jaw for hours – they have always  

wanted to be the clot of blood you  
dawn and sharpen in your hands  

ripe nubs of azaleas for mouths,  
they kiss the gods their feet  

learnt to worship: the soft  
dirt, foxglove, grass  

this is the forest where they became  
mythless again & inside, they nailed  

their bodies to its dark  
long / winged / &  

faultless as the throat of god  
snow ashes / snow breaks  

& snow lifts / Go ahead / tell god of  
your marble voice, the light  

see what He will do  
don’t be fooled: what you love  

most must be untouchable / there  
is no tender omen to describe this  


Janiru Liyanage

Janiru Liyanage

Poetry

Fall 2020

Glass