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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4079 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Incomplete Lisa Janice Cohen In the transition from womb to light, in the pain of lungs seared by alien air a moment of perfect clarity stripped away. Somehow, our flesh survives its separation from the source. But from that instant, we grieve. Lullabies teach the language of need. Greedy mouths gulp, choke on milk that spurts warm from the breast. Each mother and child feeds a different hunger. Loss follows us through raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives even when carved words blur and weeds strangle the lilac bush we planted in remembrance. I reach across the divide of dreams to find you. We cannot mend what was torn, but we try to sand the ragged edges clean. |
