Organic Form with Miranda Barnes and Sarah James.
Poetry by Miranda Barnes
The cuttings from the philodendron
have hovered in water
for several weeks,
three of them, each in a blue glass.
One has leaves bigger than the others,
darker green, fewer brush-streaks of yellow.
The sun shines brightest in that window.
Her roots came quickly, now coil
at the bottom of the glass, grow
longer in the afternoon.
spreads thick inside each leaf.
The roots are creeping up the glass, will soon
be above water. How can she feed off nothing?
There is no soil, just water and light.
Here, there is only dust and what condenses from my breath—
yet I climb a wall and find the window open.
I walk into the sun today
and smell the earth waking
(its green cast through
with a warm gold scent),
receive again the skyblue language of birds
and their happiness
that asks nothing.
The branches of trees gather
their moss-bright kisses
and my bones move easily
inside the warm petals of my flesh,
their movements a slow nectar.
No longer do I fear
the shadow of a bird crossing the sun.
My form recedes and I am weightless.
The Green Decides
No thing hesitates
in the pull
of our sun's fierce arrow.
The green decides
Miranda is a poet and writer originally from the US, now living in the UK. Her work has appeared in a number of journals in the US, including Ruminate Magazine and AfterHours: A Journal of Chicago Writing and Art. Recent poems have appeared in Lighthouse Journal (Gatehouse Press), Blue Fifth Review, and The Beacon (Lighthouse Poole), while others are forthcoming in The Cresset and Confingo. Miranda teaches Poetry and other genres whilst pursuing her PhD at Bath Spa University.
Visual Art by Sarah James