Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Beginnings

To the sky,
dust.
Dead water
in my pocket.
Near my ear,
God.
A conjugal
in lace.
Dead water
sky.
Crow feathers
in my pocket.
Of tender meats the murder
gives my bones a face.

For Midweek Motif ~ Beginnings at Poets United.  Also submitted to Brandon's prompt at Real Toads.

15 comments:

Fireblossom said...

Dark and clever, girl.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Deep and darkly wonderful. I especially love the dead water sky.

Anonymous said...

Disturbing imagery. An unsettling piece.

Kerry O'Connor said...

The last image is a killer finale in an awesome description of poetic accoutrements.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Such wonderful imagery in this!💜

Susan said...

Thank you for bringing us this poem! What our food does for us, how we grow so magically from cells to whole--Imaginative and believable to me. Love it!

Toni Spencer said...

Dead water, used twice. A most evocative two word phrase. Water is supposed to be life giving but here it is anything but. What Fireblossom said.

brudberg said...

Deliciously dark... somehow it brings up an image of Ophelia drowned.

willow_switches said...

I often feel inept when I read your poems, and then sit, blown away, not knowing how to express what has moved me, so strongly - not wanting to sound trite or god knows what .... so I'm just going to say, I was totally blown away by this. It felt like I was reading a sister piece to Shay's words for this 4th of 30/30 - yet distinctly so your own powerful voice. Yeah, wow, doesn't even scratch the surface.

Rommy said...

The last two lines are especially haunting. There are times umabiguous darkness can have nurturing qualities.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

I like the face ... the various faces. And the things in your pockets. And I knew already Who whispered in your ear.

Brendan MacOdrum said...

Feral catelog here of what ignites the tongue. This burns with sparest ferocity.

hyperCRYPTICal said...

I echo much of Willow's comment. Wow doesn't even scratch the surface. A dark deep majestic write.
Anna :o]

Sara McNulty said...

Ooh! The spookiness of dead water. I love it.

Susie Clevenger said...

Sometimes the dark in me is where I wish to roost. (I am actually going to a poetry retreat next week in Eureka Springs, AR where Nathan Brown will be speaking and leading workshops.)