my legato heart

the cello soars
as we glide upwards
along the road
cut deep into
sandstone cliffs

afternoon sun
warms my hand
resting
on your knee —
the rubato section

violins
float in —
we descend
the curving ridge
of mount white

the cadenza —
vibrating strings surge
we turn the last bend
your smile caresses
my legato heart


Julie Thorndyke (New South Wales)
First published in USYD student anthology

apoggiatura

on a grey day
she walks from the station
and folds her dry raincoat
onto my stool —
I will sit taller at the piano

birdlike, this examiner
doesn't sit to listen
but hovers —
turning pages and pointing out
features of the music

next time
she conducts my exam
I must play her own sonatina —
she hurries me on
to the Chopin

a song written
on the train near Ashfield
says her note
… I hope someone else
still knows the tune

metal trunks full of paper —
so many melodies
hidden away

For Miriam Hyde 1913 – 2005


Julie Thorndyke (New South Wales)
First published in Yellow Moon
Also published in Women's Work

Twenty-eight squares

Never been
much of a knitter,
but this winter, driven
by sorrow and hopelessness
I resolve to knit squares,
twenty-eight garter stitch boxes
to calm my head and occupy my hands
with yarn and needles, repetition
like a prayer wheel as I worry
about the ones I love, and at the same time
create a little bit of warmth
to offer a stranger, and hope
that my awkward stitches
will not be spurned.


Julie Thorndyke (New South Wales)

Adam's Rib

under his thumb
let him think
he has won
knit two, purl two

another day
she plays for time
he gets his way
purl two, knit two

children share
but he wants all
can she dare
knit two, purl two

ticket bought
her day has come
time to run
purl two, knit two

on the stair
the game is up
she’s missed a stitch
he’s waiting there

no time left
for casting off
she is
           unpicked


Julie Thorndyke (New South Wales)

That Undiscovered Country

Inside the pages
of every novel I ever saw you
sink into; every book whose tortured paths
I travelled, whose country lanes I meandered,
whose highways I traversed in dubious company

inside each book we read, separately,
sequentially, sometimes by recommendation
sometimes serendipity, we entered
undiscovered countries

of time, place, plot and character,
meeting old friends and new, finding
soul mates, escaping villains, hoping
for a final verdict that would dispense
justice with a masterly hand.

We met ourselves there.

I do not fear for you, my friend,
gone ahead into that last undiscovered country,
the book cover closed forever
behind you.


Julie Thorndyke (New South Wales)