old recipes
i have hands that need to be worried
knitted brows and empty eyed needles
clicking and clacking in time
with a grandmother’s song
she told me all her stories once
from a field of corn and desperation
broken backs and clattered crows
stealing all the shiny bits
i made a choker of her words
red silk knots and sour drops
on the tongue of overdrawn wisdom
she knew everything about me
before i was born
and nothing of the taste
of redemption
.
.
.
.
April 19th, 2013 at 11:21 am
i have read this several times, and my god, i love it when you make jewelry with words and worried hands.
April 19th, 2013 at 4:32 pm
..she told me all her stories once..
she knew everything about me before i was born…
as always, i love your words.
in my fondest, always,
tilda
April 19th, 2013 at 7:31 pm
“she knew everything about me
before i was born
and nothing of the taste
of redemption”
Such a rich description – you’ve been really writing fantastic poetry of late! Keep it up.
I loved the detail of the crows and the shiny bits. – Mosk
April 20th, 2013 at 12:32 am
>>broken backs and clattered crows
>>stealing all the shiny bits
Yes, they do that. This is a lovely poem!