Expecting
what will she
now a she
trailing clouds
yet hearing our
muffled voices
all the while
from this dark
world and wide
what will she
mew or bray
as any envoy
might derive
an embryon
from animal
or amnion
from tender lamb
though tethered to
a human form
an embryon
in amnion
or bloom of jellies
at the whim
of storm and tide
the ocean's roar
above, around,
and then inside
The Hat
Spring 2009
from Poetry Daily
Renga # 19
Where she slipped, bled, her on to you
aside no visions of beauty be decrypt
from this dirt. This repentance,
the muddy stains. You may forget
her falling, but the gesture,
stroke of her hurting fingers,
that much remains.
cho, ramblingsoul
