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Your mother’s silken womb attended spiders
with wifeliness – the underbelly wasted
with stretch marks: etherized contorted ceilings
collapsing. Thunder delivered bodies

of basilisk-children in amniotic
sacs clinging to the pelvis statically
(We dreamt of ducklings stored in pickle jars
in over-the-counter pharmacies –– nightmared).


Alba, the Occitan daybreak swallowed
away shadows. We built an obelisk
to form her spine, hoarfrost to glove her bones.
We dug the cemetery eyes concave;

the aviary heart with a complex
Cornell could sympathize. The paperweight
child’s breath diffuses, dancing though the air
with the dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
©2009 ~snwwhtkng
:iconsnwwhtkng:

Author's Comments

For PoetryPlease's Challenge #36.


Inspired by The Time Traveler's Wife.
First-half inspired by:
"I kneel beside the bed and pick it up, pick him up, my tiny boy, jerking like a small freshly caught fish, drowning in air..."

Second-half inspired by:
"Alba (Latin) White. (Provencal) Dawn of day."
"That's nice, all the little iambs, tripping along."
"'A dawn song of the Provencal poets... for their mistresses."

I couldn't pass this one up.

The last line isn't mine, and I'm not quite sure it does a good job as an ending.

Comments


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:iconpoetryplease:
Great work! I've chosen you to be the featured response to Challenge #36! Congrats!

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Join us or our sister club *ProsePlease. Also, watch ~LITplease for fun joint activities!
:iconsnwwhtkng:
Thank you so much! :heart:

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"When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace." - Jimi Hendrix
:iconpoetryplease:
My pleasure :D Keep writing!

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Join us or our sister club *ProsePlease. Also, watch ~LITplease for fun joint activities!
:iconmistah-binx:
The first thing to mention- excellent range of vocabulary. Word play aesthetics here were quite enjoyable; I fully enjoyed reading this work.

as far as the last line, I would say, it doesn't work at least where matter is concerned, only because there's no indication of time anywhere else in the piece (other than daybreak) and what is 'dead sound?' That in itself is a poem! The line, audibly, still has a ring of finality that the poem deserves. Perhaps just a couple word choices is all.

--
"But true expression, like th' unchanging sun,
clears and improves whate'er it shines upon,
it gilds all objects, but it alters none."
~Pope

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March 15
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