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Blushing Birds



Blushing Birds

                  ( Ectopia: from the Greek ektopos,

                    out of place )

My restless daughter is changing:

a quaking storm

moves in her like a butter churn;

in time it will cause sweet cream to surface .

She is casting off selves,

crimson balloons freed from a roof

as blushing birds.

 

Against her tide,

I move in different directions.

I pull old selves to me

and remember now what I was

too busy to mourn.

I think of you--

pinkly clustered ovarian pearl,

slipping down a strand

towards my breathing womb.

 

Why did you pause along the way?

Like my restive daughter,

you would not stay

where you belonged.

you coiled in a fallopian tube

like a snail in circled shell.

 

There is no grave or stone.

There is this forking scar

beneath my naval;

at night I run my hand down its crooked spine  

and grieve you again and again.

My Ectopia, for you there will be

no sweet cream

or blushing birds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Category: My articles | Added by: Kristin (09.20.2011)
Views: 166 | Rating: 0.0/0
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