Setting sun, this shadow-gathered dusk
in her eyes – she who taught me to read
is lost. Long night after night, the words
seep into pages, become river-mist,
dissolve away by dawn. A broken cloud,
her mind become a tangled skein of thought
and blindness. She calls me by my mother’s name,
asks the farm dogs if her darling is here yet.
Beloved, you are leaf and husk, more knot
than net, a tattered web. I’d carry you
on my back across these mountains if I could.
Song on the edge of hearing, you are rumour,
you are ash, you are a loved, abandoned room,
the word I cannot answer. May your death be soon.
I was ambushed by this one. I’ve had it lurking in the back of my mind for a while, but it’s never been ready to be written. So naturally yesterday, when I was being very good and working on a ReadWritePoem prompt, it decided that NOW was the appropriate time.
No idea what the title will be.