People
what they do
living fabric of all nations
that’s a world lived in by
torturers
waterboards
sorts who show up in a country
with black hoods in kit bags
packed back home
they don’t bring along
a Singer sewer to
run them up in prisons
basting seams in bases
hemming holes in
camps
Butterick pattern number
ground zero torture hood
us living fabrics say
nu-uh this skin
of close fine texture
not the future elephant foot storage for umbrellas
not your lampshade treatment
we
assert a personality hard
like people do
make our true copy
in our writing yet
not to deviate from truth
do you remember
making bridesmaids bouquets
from lantana yes me too
red-stained mouths from blackberries
true copies of the mothers
come before us
red-stained
stories running through
us the
ground
our tales to tell
all fingers grip the pen to
hand of this uncertain
life alone
a shipwreck made
a shore.
Dear Kerri, that is great.
ReplyDeleteTerrific. Verse 2 & 3 especially!
ReplyDeleteThanks guys I spent some time on my ending this time - and I felt happy with it for once!
ReplyDeleteThe contrasting imagery is stunning, Kerri
ReplyDelete