mardi 22 mars 2011


Eugène Carrière. L'amour maternel.

It was a live birth this time
Small white dumpling
on pickled silk
the itch of life so fresh
we bled to death

You soak in our heart
with deep sea eyes
and swallow the heavens:
the miles of flight of years
of salt and bitter tears

Silently you lay and watch
reflexive and infinite:
Grasp a finger white
awaken my deepest pain
and lead me into day


2 commentaires:

Stirling Davenport a dit…

Wonderful depiction of a moment.

Moineau En France a dit…

thanks so much, stirl. do you have anything new i could read? would you mind putting a link here? i'm draggin'. my mom was here for five+ days. but she was lovely. xooxoxo