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May 06, 2005
Three seasons
He stands by the window,
Clutching his prayer book,
Looking out as his white hair
Shines in the sun, hunched with
Some slight tremor in his stand
A tear finds it way on his cheeck
Asn he harriedly wipes his face
This solid earth under my feet
This beguiling Mother, that has allowed
Me to hang by its bossoms for all the rainy days
Is tilting a bit, so I could find my balance
And try to hold to all I can in a jest
Of couping and survival
She has taken the bones from my mouth
--Her bones, as I chewd on them in angst
She puts the pieces together, humming quietly
Wondering of the geography of my my anger,
And the savagery of my elements, how the
Clouds forbid the sky and burst in
Jagged stones, crushing her to pieces
And the traces of her blood on my
teeth and mouth, the pieces of her
That I have teethed and gnawed on
All in one frocious bite, a
Clear act of agression, or
Shameless hunger of a
Need, she had not seen.
Posted by Idinraha at May 6, 2005 01:37 PM