| after Hikmet/O’Hara/Reeves/Vuong/Rader*/Perini |
| Someday, I’ll love Dunk Catherin the way the wolf loves the waxed moon, or perhaps the way that snails inhabit rain-showers crunchy boot fodder struggling silver artisans designing on a stone. Someday I’ll love my face, its rosy-nosed, freckled, crow’s feet even though by then it may also have collapsed in its skin bites here and there from a scalpel, as though everything suffering must also be cut, bled and stitched, like waiting for a patchwork quilt to disassemble. I always knew I loved my name — a Catherin is Pure, a Catherin is Great — but will future folk say that, then, of me? Once, on a train to Rockhampton, I felt accepted. I never knew they talked behind my back Someday I will long for people, not just as company but on their merits Someday I will love my self, the way I love getting lost in a task, I’ll love adventure more than I fear uncertainty and even that unknown time the flipside of life will be quite welcome Someday I’ll love Dunk Catherin, but it’s difficult to love your harshest critic. My father, when tenderest, would call me Catherin the Great, and I felt like anything was possible a god, in the body of a child. I used to ride with him on the tractor to cut wood. I don’t remember the trees crying, as they died. I love some easier than others, but Someday I’ll love them all, and I will not think of hate, and even if I do it will not last, and souls cannot be vaporised by death. |
* https://poets.org/poem/i-never-knew-i-loved-dean-rader?mc_cid=914d4c0c8a&mc_eid=88f73c3c67
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Wordflower 
Really very beautiful
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