Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Lucy Alexander #88 Fish

My mother was a fish
who never slept

with her eyes closed.
She wished to speak

but her teeth were sewn in
tiny rows her tongue a swallowing device

she leapt from the water to show me love
her back curved velvet scales

her eye a glinting silver disk
and everything she loved

scratched into the bones of her skull.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.