For you, I iron my breath,
dust the flames from my shoes
grapple with my own fingers and their workings.
I go and finish sewing the apples back to the tree
blossoms to my lip
sprinkle flour on the floor of our kitchen
and dance,
dance until we all return.
For you I will tie down my tongue
loosen my eyes
avert my palms.
It will be my job to fade the tiredness in the sunlight,
my duty to bulb each lantern
and polish polish polish all those tears.
You must do your own breathing
wearing all my wrinkles down.
Your imagery is gooood!
SO beautiful. Thank you
This is lovely! Thanks for sharing it with us – Kathleen
The magic you wove with the domestic imagery was so moving. Such love. Beautiful poem. Thanks! Sarah
The magic you wove with the domestic imagery was so moving. Such love. Thanks! Sarah
Lucy, this is so soulful and gentle. Makes me think of a quote from WM Thackeray: “Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.”