Tuesday Poem: Waterfall, by Marisa Cappetta

waterfall

It starts as
the father and his daughters,

his love for them
enough to fill a balloon
and sail over
the Colosseum over the Tiber
and onto London.
His love a warm air rising,
playful as a thermal.

His girls tumble
from the basket
he scans the land below

but his daughter's beds
are empty and smell
of earth, leaves
and the pummel of
water on wet stone.

He finds one of their
shoes behind the waterfall.

At night
his eyes are silos
filled with a warm air,
rising.

This week's offering for Tuesday Poem is another of Marisa Cappetta's lovely poems filled with lush imagery. Marisa is a Christchurch visual artist and poet, currently studying at the Hagley Writers' Institute. The poem was published in the latest issue of Takahe magazine, where Marisa says
When writing I gather ideas, text, articles and objects in the literary equivalent of a visual diary. I produce 'thumbnails' of writing in frames, mind maps, balloon diagrams and flow charts. In this format I test phrases and ideas in various configurations; the process is often playful, easily allowing me to experiment.