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Mara Jebsen: A Reason to Howl

October 25, 2012 by PBQ

A grieving mind is wild dogs & flowers.
It wags a center like a stamen, like a dusty
yellow tongue. It soothes the heartache of a widow
as she grips a wooden spoon,
plumping up a chicken in a pot of sliced onion.

Her bad husband undid her apron.

He was risen shining-fresh from the land of the dead.
His hair gleamed like wheat. He led her to bed.

It was in a book I read, when I was too young.
When her new husband took her it sounded
uber- sweet. His hair was slicked black as a blackbird’s
wing.  He hid their bodies chastely beneath a white sheet.

From death’s windowsill, this sound:
______________________her first husband, laughing . . .

In summer, when you lay your book down, the last
of the orange sun goes raging in the field. Then
your mind is filled with fire & lake                 & love
can drive you crazy; make milk
taste whiter.  When my mother gets her heart broke,
her head goes like orchid. In the kitchen now
dinner’s getting tender;  the bones begin
to poke through their own meat.

 

Filed Under: Contributors 85, Issue 85, Poetry, Poetry 85 Tagged With: Contributors 85, Mara Jebsen, Poetry, Poetry 85

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