by a parabola

by on April 12, 2024 :: 0 comments

by a field
by a Gogh’s spoiled canvas
by a hospital window pane

warms you
a bouquet
yellow and yellow

slices of your breast
chain of lymph nodes swaying in
the hollow of your ribs
a placid sea gathers
red sand of your feet
the last glint of
cobalt out of your head

sense of disembodiment
overdue as dementia

mother

today to breathe out again
the first cries of
your children
after their birth

to walk back to
remember & remake
the backstory of
the day your husband shook free

and to
tilt his death’s head again

to find the state of grace
a spoiled ochre

nearing you
loss paddling across the tides of
your blood

you know
what in a
scintilla
spilling in through the curve
worst than
a riddle

remembering then
in order to deserve now

– Debasis Mukhopadhyay

editors note:

If we struggle to remember in our now, our then will be lost, too. – mh clay

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