nice one by lisa marie basile

THRUSH

Rahway River
 
It is a tomb,
my mother standing    a siren
pulling husks from the current.
 
She is the medium between
life and          this life,
her body
less a woman
more the placenta
of a dead hometown.
 
To me she is the old mare
who runs at night.
 
Somewhere folded in half
two linen wings of a crane
inside her, a body
run down by water.
 
She is ankle-in,
            a human wandering its wreckage
as the cemetery stones

hatch in the river
after storms.
 
She is the old verse
amnesiacs still recite.
 
A coffin slid down
and opened
and my mother had to bury it again.
 
 
 
 
Lisa Marie Basile is a Brooklyn-based poet and writer. She’s the author of the forthcoming A Decent Voodoo, (Červená Barva Press, 2012) and a chapbook, Diorama (Wisp Press). The Poetry Society of…

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