|
carrying child;
by Brynn Dizacki have forgotten my age, recently, but
not my patterns.
we do not fight,, but
give into each other like seasons
tired with our constant rotation,
replacing one another
slowly, deliberately,
sometimes flaring up breifly
in resistance
before folding in.
we are simple in these motions,
crisscrossing each other
like a god's eye,
cornhusks && tempera paint
in the hands of children
far away from home.
still, we differ;
you are patient but
i attack my daily bread,
we build altars in living rooms we haven't lived in before;
you fall asleep praying,
while i am humming nervous songs to myself
counting cracks in the ceiling,
hoping to meet you in dreams. 08/03/2005 Posted on 08/03/2005
Copyright © 2024 Brynn Dizack
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kimberly Bare on 08/03/05 at 05:48 AM lovely! i adore..."we do not fight,, but
give into each other like seasons"...this has so much just beneath the surface...good read! :) |
| Posted by Anita Mac on 08/03/05 at 11:56 PM Ha... using double ampersands is one of Brynn's favorite things! But, yes, very nice piece. I just like the way you put things. They feel right. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/09/07 at 02:31 PM "cornhusks && tempera paint
in the hands of children
far away from home." Great lines. This is a fine POTD!
|
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 08/09/07 at 04:46 PM Beautiful and romantic; a fine choice for POTD! |
|
