divine child
BEE LB
remnants of gods speak
in the rhythm of the unsaid
the unspeakable, the untranslatable.
anyone listening replies
empties throat
of sound
strains jaw to the point of pain
gathers words before form
and gifts them shape.
words do the work of the heart, drop
like stones in the bucket of the world.
words show you what direction is waiting
for you to move toward it.
when i conquer time i will rest, motionless.
i will pull apart the meaning of conquer and dig into my use
of it. when i conquer time desire will dissipate
until its a distant memory i can no longer feel
or remember the taste of.
in the dust, a stranger moves, gathering memories
that once belonged to others, now belong to no one
or belong to whoever holds them.
the dreamer are memories, the dream
is who next will live through them.
i don’t remember the last thing i said
to my mother and so the memory is dreaming
of who next will hold it; my mother or another child
speaking to their mother. my mother will unlatch the mouth of love.
i long for the body of superior, her rocky shores.
I find myself at her deepest point, or the reflection of who i could be.
the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.
we are moving toward our own destruction.
i do not care to sand along the grain.
but i do still want a smooth finish.
time or our marking of it
in seconds or memories
never ends.