Poem by Cathy Altmann
Cathy Altmann is a poet, teacher and violinist from Melbourne, Australia. Her first collection, Circumnavigation (Poetica Christi Press, 2014), won the FAW Anne Elder Award. Cathy’s second collection, things we know without naming (Poetica Christi Press) was published in December 2018. Her poetry has appeared in journals, anthologies, The Disappearing website and on Melbourne’s trains as part of the Moving Galleries project. She holds a Masters in Creative Writing from the University of Melbourne and currently teaches English and Latin.
http://poeticachristi.org.au/
https://redroomcompany.org/projects/disappearing/
http://cordite.org.au/features/leanne-hills-moving-galleries-on-melbournes-trains/
Crochet and crying
The soft soughing,
the moon an aching
breast, half-breathing
half-broken. Out in
the back paddock,
where they take her
tongue skittering,
taste of pebbles in
her mouth, where they
teach her (more than
a bullet would)
what she is, how like
a wrung-out flannel
she is wrong, and the
silt in her throat is a
funnel, milling dark
grains, each unspeakable
ending – until the
night explodes
in sound and story,
like crochet and crying,
which travel
past all the barriers
back to the start.
© Cathy Altmann