•◦ ђave, ђave ภot ◦•

18

September 14 by The Running Son

Raphael Urwiller click4source

 

•◦ ђave, ђave ภot ◦•

The helpmates mostly
keep to their tasks and quarters,
still we can’t help shrink back
from their dark forms
and feral scent, and the tribulations
they involve us with: how
a renowned witch aunt
cursed both his seed
and breath; how his eleventh
sister was born ward
of a hospital, pending payment;
how the roof blew away
with the rain and rising waters
in the great monsoonal
death of his boyhood framework,
and how his blood tested
clean like a baby.
Clean enough to pass for a king
or an owner of land,
or the relaxed shouldered stance
of a man at ease,
just as his family had been
before flood water seeped in,
and receded. In the telling,
helpers bristle and expand with
jungle virility, and we shrink,
as from some beast
come too close

to thinking.

by Jim Aldrich (:

Written for the Daily Post daily prompt: Grab the nearest book. Open it and go to the tenth word. Do a Google Image Search of the word. Write about what the image brings to mind.

My tenth word was “either”.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/14/daily-prompt-bookworm/

©2013 JimAldrich

☀ ☁

All Poetry by RunningSon, aka Jim Aldrich

.namaste.   -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •-   .namaste.

Advertisements