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