May « 2007 « PJK 5000 by pearl king

Mama Lungs

May 22, 2007

My mother’s voice is loud
It escapes her chest and lips
so hard
she rips apart
her gaping heart and tongue
all fall out on the ground
The discarded shrouds of queens who could not see
but would decree fates of lions and birds coming down

Lungs power through and push me down
I wrestle on the ground
with those sloppy organic bags
of blood and breath
tissue, veins, and blue strings that cling to my flesh
August roots curl and die when blueness in the sky
trades with streaks of grays, decaying reds, and sanguine dyes
Vegetation like an old distressed hand grasps and rests
on the crimped collar of the queen’s funeral dress

The struggle creates a storm
I’m tossed in a red dusty cloud of fire but
it’s wet and cold inside of a tempest rage
Twirled, reviled, I’m told
I’m not my mother’s daughter
The shortest finger slips and the wrist hangs limp
Forlorn
The mason reads the epithet one more time
Takes a breath
When the sun hangs low the green hills look deprived
Billows of smoke from cracked ash are somehow sublime

I fall away
She has risen
I tried not looking into eyes
That won’t look like mine
No substance, no supplies
to carry in leather sacks or to bury,
Wanted to be lifted to the firelight
Not kin, but she pulled me in

Next I was cradled in a nest
Mama Lungs’ arms of soggy net and branches
Mucosa, body, ego coalesced
The apple falls and the family tree goes
The core knows and the seed can’t help so it latches