Sarah St Vincent Welch
Sarah St Vincent Welch is a Canberra-based writer and image-maker. She is one of the organisers of ‘That Poetry Thing That Is On At Smith’s Every Monday Night’ at Smith’s Alternative (a live-music venue that supports art and community). She is part of the writer and visual artists collective ‘Postcards from the Sky’ which meet at Belconnen Arts Centre. She is pleased her work will be part of Flying Islands Pocketbooks 2021. Her chapbook ‘OPEN’ was published by Rochford Press in 2019. She writes in as many forms as she can including short stories, creative non-fiction, and novels (in-progress). She blogs about reading and writing, place and time, at sarahstvincentwelch.com. She is currently facilitating a long-term poetry project with Canberra poets and community, ‘Kindred Trees’, in response to trees in The Australian Capital Territory. She is working on a major creative non-fiction exploring mental crisis. She also on occasion chalks poetry on the footpaths at art festivals, in response to place, a practice she calls #litchalk. Her heart belongs to two cities, Canberra (where she has lived for over thirty years) and Sydney, where she was born and grew up.
Vasko asks me to play, and so I do …
(He who is not smashed to smithereens
He who remains whole and gets up whole
He plays
from Before play – Vasko Popa)
in line we step now
now some out of line
long long toe steps
some now left behind
the wolf puffs, he
stills a statue, he
checks the sky
counts the shadows
we shout and totter
are chased
and eaten
we scream and question —
what’s for dinner?
someone’s moggie
knitting
rocking
twine and thread and dip
pass the cradle
pinch and cast
hand a loom
a harbour bridge
a pat is a slap is a hit
a baby she was
she was
she — went — a —
same time same time
smarting
blister
she — went — a —
faster
she was
orbit stones
blink and pop
the conker sun
rolls fast
scoop the moon lead
bruise a thumb-bed
shoot the comets
past chalk marks
squeeze the sun
against a knuckle
Kohoutek’s clinked
the Earth
polished bone raps
bone poked skin
throw it missile straight
toss up hair high
high to pick up
quick a twelvsie
scatter
sweep
a onesie
a twosie
dead sheep
it comes back —
catcher —
so throw it away!
tipfingers
arcshoulder
assembly hall wall
a song in time
a smashed window
(Vasko made me do it!)
against the back wall
the neighbours’ fence
the cupboard door
inside yourself
it comes back
comes back —
so throw it away!
(Vasko Popa was a twentieth century Serbian poet, and he was often inspired by folk tales and riddles. )
Sarah St Vincent Welch chalking a poem outside
Lonsdale St Roasters cafe as Noted Festival goers walk past on
their way to a Literary Trivia contest as part of the ‘lithop’ event
(photo by Dylan Jones)
(photos Sarah St Vincent Welch)
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