Helen
(for my mother’s sister) What an old thorn you’ve been for me and I for you; once a young green tare pulled into our bodies
July 29, 2011
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(for my mother’s sister) What an old thorn you’ve been for me and I for you; once a young green tare pulled into our bodies
(for Linda) I find you as I look past the clog of wires to the hummingbird in the plum tree, past the thrum of motor
Apocalypse and judgment day may occur somewhere in Montana, but the real arbiter resides within where final choices are made on those who’ve done us
I rediscover myself by the sea like an uncharted island or lost archipelago of feeling, of centeredness. The tides lay bare my rock then fill