I started with hunger for breath, with hunger for milk,
and the senseless need to be held. I started with-
out proper vision, without proper language, and yet
I could hear a whale's call and the beating of a moth's wing
in the room across the hall.
Hunger ended over and over, returning like a fever,
same with the yearning of hands layered over mine.
I push away and pull back, a fisherman with a sail that
never stays in one place.
Just as the trees bare their limbs and redress, just as the
sky gives and takes away, just as the land fruits and
unfolds as it gives birth inside its own end,
there lies the insane drift of life, the pulse of waves
a beggar to the winds' current, my hands a sword,
every action only a relative to hope, a blister.
Don't know if you're going to continue this theme through the challenge posts - but if so, I'm all eager for more, certainly! Another excellent poem. Haven't ever felt such precise vividness about childhood and what becomes of it. I'm going to be keeping these poems in mind.
ReplyDelete"a fisherman with a sail that never stays in one place" What an incredible line! As well, "my hands a sword, every action only a relative to hope, a blister." I only look forward to whatever you write next.
this really speaks to me: "hunger for milk,/ and the senseless need to be held." as a reader, i am immediately intrigued by the perspective of the baby's need to be held. a need so basic.
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