September 19, 20013

Patina

Knitting you a cloak of  motherly love,
too tight around your joints
strangling you with hems and cuffs and collars
how can I gather your A eolian moods in that contraption?
The unraveling yarn, from my own sweater,
a triumph of thrift, dowry passed down from generations of
female protagonists is
Shame, a brown-colored sheep's wool, curly, endless, luxurious in sheen and warmth
Toiling care, waxing my antique heart to exquisite shine

A bunch of moldy poems and some fresh ones...

ACORN

I imagined you an old oak,
sheltering, sturdy limbs
heavy with new fruit
How many years of decomposed forest
it takes for the acorn to slumber under
and just enough rain and warmth
to coax it into sprouting?
What is the chance that I take hold as such
and at the end of the longest road I 'll assume grace and redemption?

But the clouds refuse to surrender their promised rain, the marauding squirrels hard to keep at bay,
the acorn is withering, the mirage dissolving and the biblical oak-Sara another casualty of the could've beens

RE TREAT

Impulses reigned in-check
casualties appraised-check
exit plan, well, it's hard to walk backwards

correction, on one end of the arc
intended destination on the other,
sloshing in the middle, I soldier on
Unaccustomed earth, the diagnosis,
what kind of soil amendment must I procure?
So a petulant worshiper of evolution
I become
and let it be

DAWN

Fear
that guides
Pain
that seeps, bluing the liquid thoughts
Guilt
that burdens and breaks the bundle of resolve
But no regret, only a pink sunrise of hope
growing like stubble in the new day's face
My landscape painting complete

EXTERNAL BRAIN

She said, you must be the external brain
I desperately apply patches, such a quilt maker I have become
mending abysmal rends, webbing with spit and tears and spite
a cradle to hold and behold
my borrowed baby