If you keep your eyes on the horizon you can walk through time
Morgan Gwynneth Bach (IIML, Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand)
If time isn’t the line we perceive
then who’s to say that sink holes
aren’t the past adjusting the present.
Say, for example, your ancestor
in the Scottish highlands in 1464 decides
on a last run on the mountainside
to his wedding, craving air rushing past,
its calming limitlessness. A stone rolls
underfoot, azure fills his eyes.
Before his mouth opens to curse
a sink hole opens under your contemporary
feet. You find yourself broken
at the bottom of the shaft,
round like some god
had taken an apple corer
to the earth. You’re a split seed
staring at a bright iris of light.
Morgan Bach lives in a little house overlooking the sea in Wellington, New Zealand, where she is currently working on a poetry portfolio for her Masters at the IIML, Victoria University. She has one of the best views from her writing desk she’s ever seen, and can’t believe her luck, really.