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Poetry | September 2015

Uncharted

By Marietta Brill

I ate this, didn’t eat
that, recited mantra

sat in sukhasana, soaked
red nettles and yellow dock

to make my earth rich.
That was the easy part.

Who are you?
A mother should know.

I don’t, I swear. I know
things about you but

these are just things
I could pack into a box:

tiny socks, Magic cards,
whelk-white teeth I kept

like wampum. But you
who sail rooftops

and smell like cinnamon,
who are you? One day

your cells split and drifted
off into a foreign self,

a thunder, a sovereign acre,
magnificent, blizzarding.

Tagged: Publishing

3 replies on “Uncharted”

Jeansays:
September 19, 2015 at 8:12 am

I’m sending this to my dear friend in Australia. She has a son Jack’s age who is traveling Western Europe with his mates before they go into university next year.

Reply
marietttasays:
November 8, 2015 at 9:58 am

The best thing I can imagine! Thank you Jean.

Reply
Janetsays:
November 8, 2015 at 11:19 am

I too have tiny white teeth and socks we put on Graham’s tiny hands…in a box! Just breathtaking, Marietta. Your poem is tugging at all the emotions that matter to me. Thank you so much for sharing this. xoox (Tissue box where are you?!!!)
Janet

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