Banyan For Jane Draycott As winter secrets melt
for a calligrapher’s nib
with the purple sun,
italicised in invisible ink,
what is revealed is electric —
letters never posted,
notes tune unknown scales,
cartographer’s map, uncharted —
syntax alters tongues,
as phrases fold so do veils.
terracotta melts white, banyan ribbons into armatures as branch-roots twist, meeting soil in a circle. Circuits glazed under cloth carry alphabets
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