Anna Ryan-Punch

   (for S.M.E)

Wake in an empty field
with a blank head.
Launch new formats for veins
pump fingertips into poetry.

I wrote along my biceps
in the dark.
Can’t read my own arm-hand
still got the main line etched.

Rise, carrying a vague beach
sprinkling sand.
Vow to be a good winter, to
live like Koch's snowflake.

There’s only so much time
in a circle.
Draw triangles within triangles
get up earlier, sleep later.

Think my pen is small enough
to win at fractals.
Within a spherical moment
you can lose anything.

Within a moment you can
take everything.
Pour glasses of forgotten words
Remember arguments in the morning.

Anna Ryan-Punch's previous publications include poetry in Southerly, Westerly, Antipodes, The Age, Quadrant, Island, and Overland.
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