Poem Twelve: Why Look Back

Poem Draft: Why Look Back

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I pour water out of the boat.

These strings must make music

or be used as the silk for the web

to catch necessary objects:'

cups and saucers, thimbles,

lanterns, the blood of berries

staining wood, creates the scene

we will live into.

I was born out of a shell.

I am filled with soft places.

The wet field and thread of water

who makes it alive. 

Blood weds us

into deeper earth.

If only Orpheus understood the air, 

white as his lungs, 

already holds the house

she would stand in.

Why look back?

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