Saturday, March 17, 2007

The death of Mother

                breaking into the water; intruding
                in an element with no love
                so men are fooled and drowned.
                       Artie Gold, 1947-2007

She's changed her human appearance
several times

        (in these waters
        her apathy bumps against the clatter
        of a wine-dark sea)

and yet,
a conjurer of great skill,
attributes her bad luck to
the men she slept with

Because she lied,
she was transformed:
        the rank of goddess
        sexual servant,
                    the space in-between

“I've driven veracity from rocks
crushed beneath the weight of

have tried to disclose
the suffocations
        of death,
it's heavy alter of the eye:
the true development of stasis.”

The sea responds in a gush of

You'd think she had
the backbone of Medea
upon the wailing rocks

         joyless hands around her

         near mountains
         out of their minds.


Anonymous Christopher said...

Hi Wanda,

Wow, it's been a very long time!

I love your brilliant blog.

I hope the school year is winding down nicely for you. (yeah right, I suppose this is the busiest time of the term eh?)

I'd love to talk if you're interested,

Be well,


9:59 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey Chris--good to hear from you--it has been a long time, 20 years? Holy cow.


12:56 p.m.  

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