Saturday, January 17, 2009

poem





Kiki Smith, Mother, 1991







Madonna of the Wall

A paper-maiched, tendrilled muse of droop and slop, I know something
about string and the cartography of a neuron. About on-goingness.
My song is a crone's rant about the body as arrival and departure.
The torque of my shoulder to breast is the story of how sky
was born to guide wanderer or warrior.
I know too the pliant scent of fontanel -- small gate open to womb
or stone -- a place of origin, like the cave of rivulet and moss. A place of exodus.
In piled puddles of hair, read: milk of Madonna, Medusa or Medea.
I am them. Their years are my years, crinkled like old seaweed.
I know drowned children, what they wonder as water fills chest and lung,
what bad ask their eyes, their gaze mapping death, turning us to stone.
This is my lexicon of slop and droop, its spew dousing the heart's thicket.
My parchment skin loosens.
Last felt touch is breath against air.


7 comments:

Radish King said...

heartrending poem,yes.

Pam Hart said...

it's kiki...her sculpture-amazing...and yes, heartrending

Christine said...

Loved "the pliant scent of fontanel," "cave of rivulet and moss," and "dousing the heart's thicket"... quite beautiful.

Pam Hart said...

thank you Chris :))

linhelen said...

Hi..I was at the reading last night and didn't have a chance to tell you how much I liked your poems. Really beautiful! You should put "Knot Work" on here too. How nice that the HVCCA is doing their book where the poems will be published along with photos of the artwork!

Pam Hart said...

Thank you linhelen for your kind words, for stopping by here and for being at the reading. I'm really pleased that there will be a small chapbook of the poems from the reading.

Dave said...

Great word-music and imagery here.