This poem was chosen for National Poetry Month for the Cuyahoga County Public Library poem of the day forthcoming this April. It's about my grown-up children:
Bonfire
I see them together:
the connective tissues, the shared blood,
a counterpoint in firelight—and
something primal and holy in me turns.
Orange-yellow waves move over their glossy faces
and rotate like pinwheels in their eyes.
Her perfect tight-teeth smile and luminous hair.
His shoulders wide and strong, his great-grandfather’s silhouette.
White sparks sprinkle upward between us.
My diaphragm expands and my ribs crack in this invisible triangle.
I am stretched like early-morning yoga,
depth perception altered in this stasis.
Leaves flutter in the heat, tree frogs sing, dogs chase
each other in and out of deep shadows. His voice,
her laughter brings stillness to my maternal island
and resurrection to what time cannot take from my soul.
by Diane Vogel Ferri
from The Volume of Our Incongruity
Finishing Line Press 2018
No comments:
Post a Comment