how to prepare an octopus,
for memory,
watch the Hill’s Hoist swing round
me its old new lines
for drying the hapless sea creature,
winding up wind, preserving
in these lines the octopus’s loosening
embrace, as one by one, my mother’s eight
close siblings die
Dear Efi, I've read this poem 8 times and each time it wraps itself tighter around me. It's an important poem, and should justice ever emerge from its hole, it will only get more important. Well done.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for that, Rob. I'm so gratified by your visceral response and bowled over by your generous evaluation of it. :)
Deleteheartbreaking, Efi
ReplyDeleteoh, thank you so much, Robbie.
Deleteoh Efi, this is achingly sad and beautiful at all once. thank you.
ReplyDeleteMichelle, thank you so much for your comment!
Deleteit's really wonderful Efi
ReplyDeleteThe images and movement in this work so well, the hills hoist and the octopus. So moving.
ReplyDeletethank you very much, Michele and Sarah
ReplyDelete