her body falls out
of her underwear
with the impact of apples
come down out of trees.
it’s hot, this afternoon,
baking in august. we are out
on the balcony – I am reading
a paperback, and she
at the table with a scissors,
taking time in the sunlight
to look after her plants.
look – it’s so hot;
we’re both so
goddamn sweaty.
and yes, she’s in underwear,
but it’s not meant
to titillate. it’s function: her skin
and the sun
like a rockslide. the swan
of her neck
as her hair falls
like water. the twist
of her fingers
on a new stem
of mint.
DS Maolalai has been described by one editor as “a cosmopolitan poet” and by another as “prolific bordering on incontinent”. His work has been nominated nine times for Best of the Net and five times for the Pushcart Prize and has been released in three collections; Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden (Encircle Press, 2016), Sad Havoc Among the Birds (Turas Press, 2019) and Noble Rot (Turas Press, 2022)
