there was a great confluence of nothing in particular, my father busy, his foreman an asshole, and no, he couldn't have the day off, my sister's breasts growing - b - and how the sun broke on the beads of water down her arms, my brother pulling himself up to the dock, his wrists strong, his pelvis practiced at cupping his balls above the boards, there was a glass with milk ribbed and drying in the valley of the heart and many scratches you couldn't see, a robin's egg blue melmac plate with crumbs upon it, my mother at the sink wore a handkerchief, her eyes so young, while she worked her elbows moving, and i uneven on my feet blinking into the eclipsing sun.
on the head of a pin
a wind.
trees popped like dandelions and were felled and cows took to the sky, great gods pointed crooked fingers at wild women who shook grey lakes and the throat of all hunted animals rose like a cry through every leaf. while my father safely cussed out his foreman my mother's young eyes stretched wide, my brother's strong wrists grabbed at my sister's bare arms as she fell from where they were blocking the door, and i watched the light and darkness crash and tumble together upon the floor
and yet not one of us died
until later.
on the head of a pin
a wind.
trees popped like dandelions and were felled and cows took to the sky, great gods pointed crooked fingers at wild women who shook grey lakes and the throat of all hunted animals rose like a cry through every leaf. while my father safely cussed out his foreman my mother's young eyes stretched wide, my brother's strong wrists grabbed at my sister's bare arms as she fell from where they were blocking the door, and i watched the light and darkness crash and tumble together upon the floor
and yet not one of us died
until later.
Poignant and brilliant. No tornadoes in Brazil, I'd think it would be death stretching his arms to take us somewhere else. He doesn't come when it's not the right time.
ReplyDeleteTake care and keep smiling. :-)
i am glad you were safe,,,
ReplyDeleteon the head of a pin/a wind
ReplyDeleteHow they all begin. Gorgeous, erin, just gorgeous.
Time To Smoke Some Dope
ReplyDeleteI know I'm not in
Kansas anymore. Black skies,
but just before that
the skies were yellow
with a sick green tinge and my
neck puckered with it
and the sound of it
comes as if searching for me
and the papaya
in the back yard snaps
leaving only the bare trunk
while I've gone back in
to my air controlled
full blast cold inner sanctum
free of the monsoon.
great piece of a moment in time...oh and chica, i've been writing up a storm! don't forget there are four places to find me (words, images, ecogrrl and untitled) :)))
ReplyDeletehmmm... dis iz stremely gud. i came over 'cuz cristafer sed so n now i lyk it hear...
ReplyDeleteThese are beautiful densities of essence, clarified in moments of near disaster. Damn good.
ReplyDeleteWe survive when we shouldn't, and then our fragility betrays us unexpectedly. I hit a deer driving home in the dark last night. More like she ran into me, left a big dent, she ran off, both of us shaken.