Friday, November 9, 2012

Poetry Friday in the Month of All Souls










GRANDMOTHER RISING


She raised the window, heard the sycamore
Breathing darkness, cool invisible strands
Of air that seemed to lift her by her hands,
Stand her, turn her, loose her pinned-up hair,

Slip her through the screen. The blue wind bore
Her wingless body over fields and ponds
Till, skimming chimneys, clotheslines, raveled ends
Of cedar woods, she came to where the shore

Bared its one white shoulder. There, the moon
Drew a thumbnail-line as though to trace
A road where the sea pushed back the land.

Leaving her yellow nightgown on the sand,
Her image in the water's wrinkled face,
She waved like drying laundry and was gone.


Sally Thomas
Brief Light:  Sonnets and Other Small Poems
Lancelot Books
2012

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8 comments:

Anonymous said...

thanks for sharing.

Renee LaTulippe said...

Sally, this poem is so beautiful. I've read it three times, each time choosing a new favorite image - there are so many! Really lovely - "stands of air" and "waved like dry laundry" -- ahhhh! Thank you for sharing this!

Renee LaTulippe said...

That should be *strands" of air... :)

Sally Thomas said...

Thank you, Renee. I notice we're up against each other in the pop-up poetry contest -- I really liked your offering as well!

Karen Edmisten said...

Sally, this is beautiful!

I didn't get back to Poetry Friday for the contest -- fun stuff!

Sally Thomas said...

Thank you, Karen!

Sally Thomas said...

PS: You can still vote in the Pop-Up Poetry contest: 11 hours left!

Manny said...

Very lovely Sally. One could rave about several extraordinary lines: slipping through the screen, "raveled ends of cedar woods," the moon drawing a thumbnail line. "sycamore/Breathing darkness" rings wrong in my ear, but that's me. Nice poem.