Earth calling
She sat stitching a river along hems, fraying with myths of going underground The silt doesn’t breathe sits by the edges, bakes mud cakes of journeys a return gift for the delta Pebbles caper roll pause for a breath in a brook, pluck rainbows on their way, no rush for gold but rocks grow bolder Rocks don’t hold water they try pry skirt the issue roll tumble roll along the rush downstream tear her sides reckless with gravity— She dances along in her frenzy discomfiting sages across ages beyond a curse to tone down bow and bend— She does that just that only for the Mother.
First published in The Mud Proposal in the 57th Issue of Kaurab.
Waiting is the same in any language
She has worn winter
sworn silence, come March
she’s woken up
in a language wet with noise
to bank on earth on her way
to an address, in her wings
of water
flapping, relentless,
a dream safe within her
to meet the ocean
adding salt to taste –
He folds himself
along the bed of rocks
waits for her
to savour his call
in her words
she speaks
sweet
and he
salt
but waiting is the same in any language.
First published in The Mud Proposal in the 57th Issue of Kaurab