Live Encounters Poetry & Writing Volume Two November-December 2024
One Month in Bhutan, poems by Caterina Mastroianni.
One Month in Bhutan
I asked the thunder dragon for a diamond
as it slapped its’ tail and bared its’ teeth
at the gateway I squeezed through
like a careful contortionist.
At the school in Khuruthang, the children’s
morning meditations ambled
but their tree and snow leopard stories
leapt around me while I slept.
What if the takin animal could bring me
at least one diamond on its back?
There was no lightning bolt reply,
only the village dogs barking all night.
I searched in a Gasa village, until a landslide
kept me there overnight, and there I dreamed
of a diamond tumbling down into my hands
but at first light I saw a black butterfly.
Perhaps, a monkey stole one of the diamonds
and tossed it into the jungle by mistake.
I lumbered across steep rice paddies,
to the wilderness but I found a bag of rice.
I hiked on and up to the temple summit
where I marvelled at everything in the valley.
I sat in my humid thoughts, slowing down
with each breath, until I felt close to nothing.
Clouds hung over the mountain peaks
like thick dragons’ breath.
Glaciers melted down the cliff face
and I shuddered with each drop.
I stayed so still, as still as a rock,
not asking, not looking around
and I heard the thunder dragon
asking me to bow to what is.
After Bhutan
When the traffic snarls,
I leave a mountain behind.
A new patience smiles.
My device flashes.
City gulls cut skies in half.
Sun peeks over me.
Entering the house,
dust unbalances my poise.
I embrace you, love.
How long can I hold
the rice grain on my necklace,
hold it from slipping?
© Caterina Mastroianni
Caterina Mastroianni is a poet and educator living in Sydney on the land of the Cadigal and Wangal people of the Eora nation. She has published poetry in various literary magazines and five Australian anthologies, including Australian Mosaic, and most recently in the Rochford Street Press anthology.