Poems by Mat Gorrie
Plum Tree
Mat Gorrie
Published on
page 25 of Tarot #1
(Dec 2020)
Juice runs down young chins. The drip of spring dew, dancing on tongues. Equal
measures of sour and saccharine syrup. Our brash youth. Hands grab greedy flesh
in soft teeth. A delicious snarl. We dare to take more. To reach among the leaves.
Pluck as many maroon planets before the eye of God catches us. He will scald us.
Chastise bold avarice. But how can we turn away from that golden taste? Delight
young bodies, feverous and candied. Sumptuous plump bellies. Curved and
dreaming with our heads in the tree.
Ohakune — Eve of A New Year
Mat Gorrie
Published on
page 55 of Tarot #1
(Dec 2020)
I watch mountains drink
the sky, its burden
of purple and cold steel
blues bulge.
Overflow of thirst
for newness. Anaesthetise
stinging nettles of old
pain. Still yearning
I look up and see
God in nature —
the mother whose round hips
I swim to and clutch
when sky mirrors
the sea
and storms, I am afraid of disappearing
at the very edges.
I seek calmness in quiet —
mother hushes with her scent —
pinecones and kawakawa.
I saw the mountains
drink the milk of the mother.
