Mother’s Maiden Name
Espresso counterpunch,
a dream-like fusillade,
the counterinsurgency of righteousness.
We are so wrong but
it’s
hard to tell with these
jackoline teeth.
Come to where the
water whispers from the
mountain, we once were
snow we once were snow.
Dip your pinkie. Your elbow.
That’s who you are.
Thrust down from the milkies we
scour the capillaries of pine,
bleeding green, bleeding sense,
a question that lifts like a
kite falls like a cornstalk asks
for ID and all you can say is
yes I am.
From the collection Fields of Satchmo
Photo by MJV
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