Memory speaks in tongues. I taste a bitterness and hang my head back in the sunlight where berries grow, berries that stain fingers and thoughts like sin. I hum every lullaby I know to the self I am trying so hard to soothe.
08/19/2006
Posted on 08/19/2006Copyright © 2024 Lisa Marie Brodsky
Hi Lisa. Really enjoyed your poem here. Centered in reality, it seems to speak to that self to which we must be truest. Thanks.
