The Un-marvelling

by Jill Jones

How strange last night, I beheld your face, electric
with thought along with my unrest, alight and hollow
when the night trees shivered and the block
we walked seemed more cluttered than the road
we used to walk, where every little plot
and fence was tended, maybe we were too narrow
maybe we lost our hunger then to care or look
to stare at stars, to forget the way we marvelled
how their brightness could also seem soft
and how the moonlight would seem to strain
through the canopy no matter how intense or thick
how this strange loveliness may never come again
how I wanted something – something I never quite got

This poem was previously published in Viva the Real (UQP 2018)