Like a Machine, Struggle for Mother

I speak and God licks the wine from me.

I mention geese. I mention nettles.
I'm a pretty thing.

My left side limping.
My right side limping.
My left side limping.

I'm a vase. I pose with flowers.

The leash hunts me.
Sleeves tight on my arms like fire.
I love to live.
Truth floats like fish
in the pond of me.
My rot gives itself.

I spill with failure and splay,
receiving cattle and rats like saviors.
I'm going to give birth again and again.
I'm going to make you oatmeal and make your bed.

Make the peach trees bloom fuller.
I press,
I'll never need another.

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Copyright © 2011 Andrea Baker All rights reserved
from Pleiades
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission