I don’t know where to begin.
There is something I want to see,
but I don’t want to be seen.
We both need the sun today.
Even the tiny lapse reverberates to the bone.
We beat our wings against the bars.
Still, I would do all within my power
to help you from these cages within cages.
We take to the ice,
hoping to keep our feet.
The low sun reflects it,
then catches in the cattail tops.
You said time was on my side.
In the dream, it always is.
(The mother. The queen of dreaming.)
In the lull, in the thaw,
the winter residents arrive.
And I muddy my knees in the melting frost,
here where the prairiegrass is bent,
repeating whispers whispered by deer in the night.
I kneel there and beg to turn
every stroke of breath or pen
into an act of resistance.
cardinal. song sparrow. coyote on the ice. a dark one. bikes on the wet path really fuck up your footing when it freezes again, but you can’t blame people for getting out to try their new xmas bikes if it’s warm enough. ‘you think i’m like your mother.’ harrier. as much as i’d like to learn how not to tip into the pit of doom, it is impossible to deny the value of that darkness. here’s some gray and black fur, matted on the ground. squirrel? someone who got eaten. I need to get my shit together or I’m going to be walking with a cane. laughter… too far to see… some sorta woodpecker. crows along the edges. cracking of ice along the pond, how it thaws and freezes along the bank, leaving ghosts … shelves too fragile and lace-like to describe, catching the light. how long does it take if you fall through the ice? chickadee. mallards. canada geese of course. nuthatch. redtailed hawk. bluebird.
Quote 1: (mother): Joni Mitchell / ‘Woman of Heart & Mind’ from For the Roses (1972)