Blood Sisters
Through the tiny
magic of a fine grade paper
I see my mother - her wide-eyed
wonder.
Again; she waits for me to discover
the words of another poem.
Mother is anxious , she is excited as if
I were her
(only chance?)
The artist, the designer, the writer
every possible greatness
imagined
There is something desperate
in that moment -
something primitive and
raw, like the torn flesh
of a living creature
The blood gush moment
that pumps its hot scent
into the air and just then .
we were no longer mother and daughter
but tied and true blood sisters
Wild Honey Press , 2005
