poetry wednesday : cusp.

December 26, 2012 in General

Cusp

Puzzle of bones, try to take time
out of a watch, stop sundown.
It’s all the same weave, all warm
from the compost, erasing
the written page to blankness.

In the morning, the shadow
of a hawk split the yard.
Inside your ear, mother’s voice—
stay away from that wall
or you’ll fall, you’ll feel, you’ll see
over. There’s another world inside.

In your pocket, you carry twelve black
stones, rosary of willing deceit,
accounting of misspent deeds.
If sand fills your mouth, spit. If salt
burns like a flame inside you,
ignite. Any shard can split
open your precious whole.

There is a crust, a crypt, a bomb
crouched inside. You witnessed blue
fragments of birds stabbed crimson
by black beak. Maybe it is blood.
Maybe it is only berries, too
ripe. Everything tumbles.

I was honored to have Erin in my VerbTribe classes. Her poetry moves me, an eloquence of image and an economy of word I can step into. This poem is from here.

About Patti Digh

Patti Digh is an author, speaker, and educator who builds learning communities and gets to the heart of difficult topics. Her work over the last three decades has focused on diversity, inclusion, social justice, and living and working mindfully. She has developed diversity strategies and educational programming for major nonprofit and corporate organizations and has been a featured speaker at many national and international conferences.