from Star Sequence
Sister, men came from town this evening,
Little sister, born under the mutable sign of water,
take these broken shells and spiky bits of starlight
you sifted from the sea and make yourself a home.
gathered for a row on Heron's Lake.
As they searched they were like sparrow hawks,
circling. They held their candles close
to the water, waiting for a signal
from you. On a far bank, pines shifted
in the earth, falling away.
I thought of you as I listened
to oars breaking the water,
pushing it away like a large fish
breaking into the air then sinking
to the bottom. Dredging the slick mud floor.
The generations go down.
Mother left everything to you:
a closet of clean clothes, pictures
of you both sewn in the linings; her china,
carefully packed. Tradition, you have told me,
from mother to daughter. I have turned away.
I have offended those who come
fresh from church, wafers of absolution
on their tongues. I looked out,
candles on the black water accuse,
the face of it is enough.
Tonight I will break a china cup
on the water and watch the landscape
slide in on you.
3 comments:
I think you and I have talked about this poem before, PB. Some thoughts:
I like the double meaning on the word "row" in the first stanza.
I think I would say "big fish" instead of "large fish" in the second stanza. Sounds better.
This is really pretty great. Submit already!
Thanks, Sam, almost finished now. Promise.
About the fish, I chose large for the alliteration on the L and also for the contribution it makes to what I think of as the "lapping" sound of this piece. Then again, I could be nuts. LOL Could be. :)
This one blows me away. I can't suggest anything, as I feel it's just perfect. I like "large" in the second stanza and would leave it.
I love the lines where you talk of how you've offended these people, "fresh from church, wafers of absolution/on their tongues." Yes, aren't they kind.
The last three lines take my breath away.
One of your absolute best. I agree with Sam. Submit already!
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