Saving Seeds


A bean, uncurling from the gut,

rose up, shedding clothing

and was born. A girl to her mother’s 

mother’s mother’s place– for thousands of years–

a customary place, where every

rock, snow and animal 

had kept its first name.

The sky, in every season was

the only book. Heads bowed

as hands worked,

dough kneaded by daylight,

baked by firelight. Each loaf had

its own ritual and nourishment.
When the time came, 
when thousands of years 
seemed long enough
in Disappointment Place,
pictures were taken of the house
without its colors.
The decision that
the language wasn’t worth saving
set everything adrift.
Last words, dry and hard seeds, 
were pocketed and counted
*I didn’t quite make it to 30 poems in April, National Poetry Month, but I will keep at it into May (and maybe beyond),

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: