The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.
On their blotter of fog the trees
Seem a botanical drawing.
Memories growing, ring on ring,
A series of weddings.
Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery,
Truer than women,
They seed so effortlessly!
Tasting the winds, that are footless,
Waist-deep in history.
Full of wings, otherworldliness.
In this, they are Ledas.
O mother of leaves and sweetness
Who are these pietas?
The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but chasing nothing.
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Comments
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"The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve."
they say that when the first line shakes the hell out of you, the poem is made. it shook me nonetheless. jolted me from my all nonchalant mood. powerful.
ending it,
"Who are these pietas?
The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but chasing nothing"
like picture framed perfectly. -
I disagree with Ladie Lee. The rhymes are uncommon and unpredictable and are not the cliche, every day predictable rhymes such as "blue, two, shoe," or "love, dove, above."
It seems , to me, that the rhymes were accidental. They sort of just fell in place. I love the first line. It is one of the best first lines I think.
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Her rhyme is rather jerkey in this piece.
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