Sunday, August 31, 2014

Mother River

We found her blue-faced as a pict.
I became "Gall," my sister, "Bile,"
linguistics, the lace of our fingers.
Blood

is the mother river,
bone banked and senseless.
Pulse is census and legends of Lazarus
recited as I wade in

hoping to be counted.
Hoping to swim.

A rough bit of something for mood wings

5 comments:

Sylvia K said...

Your creativity with sometimes difficult subjects never fails to amaze me, MZ!! Hope you're enjoying a great holiday weekend!!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

"Blood is the mother river, bone banked and senseless." What a powerful line. I feel that "hoping to swim." Sometimes the waters are turbulent. Yet we plug on.

mood wings said...

In my feed, it comes through as something like "bile linguistics---the lace of our fingers," which I LOVE.

Though it's all wonderful, just as you chose to split it, of course.

Other parts that stand out to me are "hoping to be counted,"the lace of our fingers---blood," and "bone---banked and senseless" (dashes added, of course, for alternate meanings).

This river of emotion clearly embeds a poignant agony, unspeakable and not quite completely washed away.

I imagine two sisters finding their mother unconscious from ODing on something. I think she dies and they have to figure out how to move on and survive their own lives. Or maybe the father beat her to death, and the sisters have to pick up the pieces.

"Pulse is census"
"legends of Lazarus recited as I wade in" ... Are you kidding me?! You astound me.

Fireblossom said...

The fact that the Mother River is "bone-banked and senseless" makes me worry for the one entering her current, needing something.

grapeling said...

yes ~