Author Topic: Sole Of Her Right Foot  (Read 2135 times)

Offline actpoet1

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Sole Of Her Right Foot
« on: May 22, 2006, 12:25:35 PM »
Scattered wine bottles. Cigarette butts
clotted on her night table. Eyes the hue of a deep empty well

peered at me as I gently removed rusted scissors
from her left hand. I cleaned the
sole of her right foot: tiny, intertwined branches
glazed over in blood.

     Once I could heal her from the
     inside like sprouting leaves do a tree
     that has lost part of who it is from the violence of existence.
     I grew like those young leaves on tiny, intertwined branches.
     I’d yawn the wrong way for the rain, but she’d    lean
     the right way for me to drink until growing
     older caused me tumble from her.


I folded my baby blanket around her right foot,
placed her pillow under her head, and whispered, “Your touch:
raindrops on the last patch of grass in a scorched field,” in her ear.

Then prayed the memory of me
kicking inside her womb
would ease her torment.

SAY8
Write on,

actpoet1

If you want, click on the link below and walk into my mind. My name is in the middle on the right.

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Offline caliban1

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Re: Sole Of Her Right Foot
« Reply #1 on: May 22, 2006, 12:49:30 PM »
What a beautiful and powerful poem.  All of that "ugly" imagery of the room and the condition of the foot makes it more powerful.  You have captured the beauty of the relationship that won't be belied by the mother's condition.

It moves me even more, because my mother, although in a much better physical situation, is suffering from dementia.  It doesn't change her soul.

Thanks again,
Caliban
It is all a metaphor.

Offline actpoet1

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Re: Sole Of Her Right Foot
« Reply #2 on: May 22, 2006, 08:17:51 PM »
Thank you.
Write on,

actpoet1

If you want, click on the link below and walk into my mind. My name is in the middle on the right.

http://users.skynet.be/spier/argoboatbruce.htm

Offline Uncle Bill

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Re: Sole Of Her Right Foot
« Reply #3 on: May 25, 2006, 09:39:51 PM »
“Your touch: raindrops on the last patch of grass in a scorched field”

Hardly ever does something come along as exquisite as this definition of a touch.  What a scrumptious metaphor!  It's so good it's quotable.  And I'm really glad you shared it with us.

UB
Leetonia: It ain't the end of the world.  But you can see it from there.

Offline actpoet1

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Re: Sole Of Her Right Foot
« Reply #4 on: May 26, 2006, 12:20:12 AM »
Uncle Bill,

Thank you. It actually came to me during one of my acting classes. I was doing a monologue about loss. Slam! It burned into my mind. God, I love the Muse!
Write on,

actpoet1

If you want, click on the link below and walk into my mind. My name is in the middle on the right.

http://users.skynet.be/spier/argoboatbruce.htm

Offline Uncle Bill

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Re: Sole Of Her Right Foot
« Reply #5 on: May 26, 2006, 08:50:22 AM »
Actpoet1,

We should all be so lucky to have an attentive Muse like you have.  Count your blessings...

UB
Leetonia: It ain't the end of the world.  But you can see it from there.