Tuesday, June 22, 2010


there's a storm coming, child.
see how the leaves flip their skirts
to reveal silver legs in flight?

take comfort.
the gods always send messengers
to warn the people.

come into the hearth
where baked sugar beckons
and my cracked fingers
and old eyes can better find your tears.

'cuz your momma, baby,
your momma's not coming home no more.

iris has lowered her rainbow bridge
and souls take their passage.

press into my soft arms
so that your loss can journey
through old cotton
into the space of my heart.

inside, a tender lullaby
joins the wails of a child.

outside, the gods
incite electricity into fire
and the heavens pour down a cleansing
to match our own.