No Other Life But This
No Other Life But This was published by Five Islands Press in 2006. It was part of the New Poets series that included Ali Jane Smith, Kate Waterhouse, Ross Gillett, Gita Mammen and Francesca Haig. It is pretty much out of print but there are a few copies left that you can purchase from me at readings. Two poems from the collection below.
'Against a dark night sky, Curnow's poems draw a child's sparkler sketch of who we are. World-wise but not world weary, his poetry possesses an intellectual tenderness; the voice of reason with a heart. With the excitement of a child who can't keep a secret, No Other Life But This takes us on a joyride through the depths of ourselves and those we love.'
- Paul Mitchell
Bath Towel Wings
Embracing herself in bath-towel wings,
corners clutched with tight, pink fists,
she waits for pyjamas in the centre of the room,
warmly dripping what is left of the bath.
I don’t want to die, she says, and if I could waive
death somehow, waive it like a day of school.
If I could write her a note or simply wrestle it,
the way I contort her into armholes.
I tell her that I love her but she’s heard it before.
She wants to know where we go after this.
She believes in Santa. I can’t let her trust Jesus.
Yes, your heart stops working and your lungs.
I want to tell her that life gets busier
which means there is less time to worry.
If there is a trick it’s not to grieve too much.
The mystery must be lived, hope is important
and fear: I get the two mixed up. But the end is coming
without permission, whether I spell it exactly or not
and these wings, this warmth, whatever we enact,
will never come to pass without love.
Vegan Steak
Before mum finally accepted chemo,
she served us ‘vegan steak’.
She had tried vitamins and oils,
every alternative from pamphlets
with an Eastern perspective.
The clot stared at us
with broccoli eyes,
potato and tofu
the unwilling mortar.
She called it ‘steak’ to make it easier for us.
We ate it to make it easier for her.
'Against a dark night sky, Curnow's poems draw a child's sparkler sketch of who we are. World-wise but not world weary, his poetry possesses an intellectual tenderness; the voice of reason with a heart. With the excitement of a child who can't keep a secret, No Other Life But This takes us on a joyride through the depths of ourselves and those we love.'
- Paul Mitchell
Bath Towel Wings
Embracing herself in bath-towel wings,
corners clutched with tight, pink fists,
she waits for pyjamas in the centre of the room,
warmly dripping what is left of the bath.
I don’t want to die, she says, and if I could waive
death somehow, waive it like a day of school.
If I could write her a note or simply wrestle it,
the way I contort her into armholes.
I tell her that I love her but she’s heard it before.
She wants to know where we go after this.
She believes in Santa. I can’t let her trust Jesus.
Yes, your heart stops working and your lungs.
I want to tell her that life gets busier
which means there is less time to worry.
If there is a trick it’s not to grieve too much.
The mystery must be lived, hope is important
and fear: I get the two mixed up. But the end is coming
without permission, whether I spell it exactly or not
and these wings, this warmth, whatever we enact,
will never come to pass without love.
Vegan Steak
Before mum finally accepted chemo,
she served us ‘vegan steak’.
She had tried vitamins and oils,
every alternative from pamphlets
with an Eastern perspective.
The clot stared at us
with broccoli eyes,
potato and tofu
the unwilling mortar.
She called it ‘steak’ to make it easier for us.
We ate it to make it easier for her.
