Oct 2015
When a woman dies
we sense it
acutely.
The sting of a bumblebee
lingering in the long night
soft buzzings in the brain
vibrate with increased frequency
churning out spliced contralto cries
without cease.
Then the wound
which birthed a mark on your left ankle
splits open
and you fall, try to stand,
and you fall again
Backwards and down
like unwoven string
body strewn
along a second-hand couch
wide eyes
burning holes in the fabric
with questions perched on your lips
we sense it
acutely.
The sting of a bumblebee
lingering in the long night
soft buzzings in the brain
vibrate with increased frequency
churning out spliced contralto cries
without cease.
Then the wound
which birthed a mark on your left ankle
splits open
and you fall, try to stand,
and you fall again
Backwards and down
like unwoven string
body strewn
along a second-hand couch
wide eyes
burning holes in the fabric
with questions perched on your lips
I wrote this poem at the start of Fall, after two people I know suddenly lost their mothers, and I wondered at the experience of losing a woman..a mother, who has been a central figure in one's life.
