Mothers

Walking vests bulked around me
with meals for grins and saccharine breasts
are like felt on my eyelids
when I taste the pails, sopping and ripe;
synonymous trees in name, as they solder my lips
in the virginity of a woman sewn.
She -
she who is a roach, a hysterical cub of Electra,
who sees a womb as a General,
accelerates the messy soils
of an adult in sense but not in need.
Knock-knee'd and devestated, I rise my scorpion head,
homeless,
for I have wandered stupid
and as such an arid Nimrod, bruised, empty,
but whistling for my corpse to ignite
a map like a lover's will;
Neglected, I spiral every breath like a foetus.

◄ Unravelling that which I do. All the time.

Andromeda in Waiting ►

Comments

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Jeff Dawson

Sat 26th Dec 2009 11:03

Great work Marianne, not sure I understand it all but what the hell! Great use of words though best wishes Jeff x

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Graham Sherwood

Tue 15th Dec 2009 21:32

Enigmatic as always Marianne. I really really like your work.

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sian howell

Mon 7th Dec 2009 10:44

what an incredible poetry talent you are ....really special sian x

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 5th Dec 2009 17:33

Marianne, it's like getting on a roller coaster cum roundabout, a bit dizzying but always energizing. I liked it - didn't understand all of it, but that's irrelevant. Wish I were part encyclopaedia.

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winston plowes

Tue 1st Dec 2009 15:41

Oh Marianne, this one is a great piece. Strewn with evocative images you have catepulted us back to a time before memories and described the bond in your usual amazing style. Winston x
(Typo in devEstated?)

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