Childhood Farm
I
gave her these names: she, mother, beast
Weighted on her tightly in dreams
I heard prayer candles lit
For fifty-cents a scream
She
gave me gutted music
That cornered me in the morning
I have danced to this, yes
For a thin slice of bread
Where
can it churn from here
On crooked workhorse feet
We have slept in it, yes
In sacks of warm crawling wool
Woman,
when do you come down
Or at least unleashed, uncramped, undone
I wait here in dark eider
Put a hand on your belly
And
feel me grow old -Norene
Cashen
|
