Tea with Mom

WESWEPT

what is left/

the protruding/ (of) bones/

leftovers/ from the wars/

around here/

curious (we were)

paint streaks/

around the (eye)

of the storm/

your face sea-bleached

and

(old)

old

earthquake

underneath/ the (dream)

where (we) entered/

curtain drops/

sky opens/

(long knuckled fingers

bit into my flesh

pinning me to the world)

I/your naissance

(natally yours)

© Paulette Turcotte 2011
all images, poetry and narrative