Hindsight into Splinters Open Link Night — Week 128

Like alone is sweetness,
down without cause,
belief might warn my eyes,
its water half-light if it gets too brief;
maybe hope’s inside a halo.

I see a long incident —
gestation’s liar on its own:
mothers cross this history
and blink the water’s memory,
surrounding insects with ribbons.

Her horizon couldn’t bark friendship; it’s a noose
passageways sew me, developing grey
thistles in crevices.

I am exoskeleton,
mighty bone-house
made by Mother herself,
a salt-turning hindsight into splinters,
following her measured grip.

I am silver with no dexterity
trying to pleat and breathe beauty,
scattering my eyes,
transparent with practise,
I choose the hidden
in pleasing rain, a side of inside,
which withstands repeatedly
as if I am not tawny.

Mrs. Sky is kind, something of an embellishment —
a tendon-reflex if she dresses death;
“first leaves red-veined as ever” is where I go … for scent
they also lie.

I trust nourishment as I would the thin air,
which I wear carelessly
while most of the imploring drone
insects cajole
when tunnelling measurement
with spiralling eyes if I can see their distant
wings rising the narrow;
like my exoskeleton,
my own withstands.
My mother dresses me in salt.

What I own are transparent thistles,
because she sews the halo
into tawny grip ever seasonal.
Yet couldn’t she implore the wind
— its beauty if and to itself —
like an insect with good eyes?
— as my cross is belittled, passages cannot be trusted.

Mrs. Ribbon is History,
and I wear her
carelessly like a noose;
your friendship a gestation,
a mother of will.

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8 responses to “Hindsight into Splinters Open Link Night — Week 128

  1. i like how you keep looking back to imagery like the exoskeleton, the halo, the thistles…wearing the ribbon carelessly like a noose…the mother dressing you in salt jumped out at me….giving the sky and ribbon titles of Mrs as well adds an interesting element…

  2. A beautiful look back. great imagery.

  3. You run ahead on tiptoe….I try to keep up…amazing.

  4. really heavy emotions in this one…made me swallow hard a few times while reading through it.. i’m glad that there is freedom in the close..

  5. Your use of metaphor, is as ever, imaginative and striking. I shed tears after reading this poem.

  6. This is brilliant, pamela. I really am speechless. This seems to me both a poem of exploration and of transformation, propelled by the strongest of language and image. Very fine writing–I won’t quote everything back at you, but I especially liked this stanza, which is almost a standalone poem:
    “..I am silver with no dexterity
    trying to pleat and breathe beauty,
    scattering my eyes,
    transparent with practise,
    I choose the hidden
    in pleasing rain, a side of inside,
    which withstands repeatedly
    as if I am not tawny…”
    It just leaves me breathless.

  7. You are quite the writer..my first time here…intense yet subtle…your words keep me enthralled anticipating each new line, stanza 😉

  8. …I’m actually following you, but neglected to pay attention a minute ago..so many posts on OLN…I can’t keep up! Great work Pamela!

I appreciate all comments.

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