u/oystersinthevoid

spring
.
i disconnected from the now, watering my lime, the one i'd babied through the chill months - nearly its time
to return to the patio
Spring cracking
pushing through stale mulch
.
unaware of my hands
delivering more water than the pot could bear overflowing
pooling clumsily on the hardwoods
splashing my toes
.
how the dribbling recalled the emptying
of my womb - thighs sticky with my blood and the death of a dreamt angel
.
that releasing of a motherly valve
gravity forcing a tiny bed of life i'd been making to slide from me
escaping my grasp
.
one week more than enough to know you and
imagine your face and
glorious proportions how soft
and irregular your hair would have been
.
the space you would have consumed
my ears filling with a call
for mama, again
.
instead i've been left with utter silence
a pothole in my abdomen
an abyss the size
of a sesame seed
.
from my root, my mine my quarry
i must chisel a shard of peace
that you may bring with you to wherever it is dreamt angels float off to
.
i can only hope to see you in every blade of grass
the tips of hyacinth poking through
Winter's sapped earth
in every mote of pollen that clings to my hair
as you would have with a pudgy grasp
.
i've no choice but to believe in the perpetual

spring
.
i disconnected from the now, watering my lime, the one i'd babied through the chill months - nearly its time
to return to the patio
Spring cracking
pushing through stale mulch
.
unaware of my hands
delivering more water than the pot could bear overflowing
pooling clumsily on the hardwoods
splashing my toes
.
how the dribbling recalled the emptying
of my womb - thighs sticky with my blood and the death of a dreamt angel
.
that releasing of a motherly valve
gravity forcing a tiny bed of life i'd been making to slide from me
escaping my grasp
.
one week more than enough to know you and
imagine your face and
glorious proportions how soft
and irregular your hair would have been
.
the space you would have consumed
my ears filling with a call
for mama, again
.
instead i've been left with utter silence
a pothole in my abdomen
an abyss the size
of a sesame seed
.
from my root, my mine my quarry
i must chisel a shard of peace
that you may bring with you to wherever it is dreamt angels float off to
.
i can only hope to see you in every blade of grass
the tips of hyacinth poking through
Winter's sapped earth
in every mote of pollen that clings to my hair
as you would have with a pudgy grasp
.
i've no choice but to believe in the perpetual
.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/bRqABSGjw0

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/NLZaBJdKyw

•DEATH PEARLS•
.
i have aged, 
apparently
.
according to some papers and screens,
slight lines that whisper old jokes
 back into my skin,
in case i’ve misplaced them 
in my happy files 
.
buying new shoes for my child
who grows so unapologetically 
it is nearly an insult 
.
taller and taller he gets
and apparently, 
I have aged 
.
we sat for a dinner of killed things
to celebrate,
i bit down 
with such enthusiasm -
cracked my tooth on the pearl 
a mussel was harboring 
in death 
.
i wonder 
what pearls might the universe
break a tooth upon
when it comes time 
to devour me ?
.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/w8s93gYsXx

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/mcaNduYUh6

spring
.
i disconnected from the now, watering my lime, the one i'd babied through the chill months - nearly its time
to return to the patio
Spring cracking
pushing through stale mulch
.
unaware of my hands
delivering more water than the pot could bear overflowing
pooling clumsily on the hardwoods
splashing my toes
.
how the dribbling recalled the emptying
of my womb - thighs sticky with my blood and the death of a dreamt angel
.
that releasing of a motherly valve
gravity forcing a tiny bed of life i'd been making to slide from me
escaping my grasp
.
one week more than enough to know you and
imagine your face and
glorious proportions how soft
and irregular your hair would have been
.
the space you would have consumed
my ears filling with a call
for mama, again
.
instead i've been left with utter silence
a pothole in my abdomen
an abyss the size
of a sesame seed
.
from my root, my mine my quarry
i must chisel a shard of peace
that you may bring with you to wherever it is dreamt angels float off to
.
i can only hope to see you in every blade of grass
the tips of hyacinth poking through
Winter's sapped earth
in every mote of pollen that clings to my hair
as you would have with a pudgy grasp
.
i've no choice but to believe in the perpetual

spring
.
i disconnected from the now, watering my lime, the one i'd babied through the chill months - nearly its time
to return to the patio
Spring cracking
pushing through stale mulch
.
unaware of my hands
delivering more water than the pot could bear overflowing
pooling clumsily on the hardwoods
splashing my toes
.
how the dribbling recalled the emptying
of my womb - thighs sticky with my blood and the death of a dreamt angel
.
that releasing of a motherly valve
gravity forcing a tiny bed of life i'd been making to slide from me
escaping my grasp
.
one week more than enough to know you and
imagine your face and
glorious proportions how soft
and irregular your hair would have been
.
the space you would have consumed
my ears filling with a call
for mama, again
.
instead i've been left with utter silence
a pothole in my abdomen
an abyss the size
of a sesame seed
.
from my root, my mine my quarry
i must chisel a shard of peace
that you may bring with you to wherever it is dreamt angels float off to
.
i can only hope to see you in every blade of grass
the tips of hyacinth poking through
Winter's sapped earth
in every mote of pollen that clings to my hair
as you would have with a pudgy grasp
.
i've no choice but to believe in the perpetual

.
i disconnected from the now, watering my lime, the one i'd babied through the chill months - nearly its time
to return to the patio
Spring cracking
pushing through stale mulch
.
unaware of my hands
delivering more water than the pot could bear overflowing
pooling clumsily on the hardwoods
splashing my toes
.
how the dribbling recalled the emptying
of my womb - thighs sticky with my blood and the death of a dreamt angel
.
that releasing of a motherly valve
gravity forcing a tiny bed of life i'd been making to slide from me
escaping my grasp
.
one week more than enough to know you and
imagine your face and
glorious proportions how soft
and irregular your hair would have been
.
the space you would have consumed
my ears filling with a call
for mama, again
.
instead i've been left with utter silence
a pothole in my abdomen
an abyss the size
of a sesame seed
.
from my root, my mine my quarry
i must chisel a shard of peace
that you may bring with you to wherever it is dreamt angels float off to
.
i can only hope to see you in every blade of grass
the tips of hyacinth poking through
Winter's sapped earth
in every mote of pollen that clings to my hair
as you would have with a pudgy grasp
.
i've no choice but to believe in the perpetual

spring
.
i disconnected from the now, watering my lime, the one i'd babied through the chill months - nearly its time
to return to the patio
Spring cracking
pushing through stale mulch
.
unaware of my hands
delivering more water than the pot could bear overflowing
pooling clumsily on the hardwoods
splashing my toes
.
how the dribbling recalled the emptying
of my womb - thighs sticky with my blood and the death of a dreamt angel
.
that releasing of a motherly valve
gravity forcing a tiny bed of life i'd been making to slide from me
escaping my grasp
.
one week more than enough to know you and
imagine your face and
glorious proportions how soft
and irregular your hair would have been
.
the space you would have consumed
my ears filling with a call
for mama, again
.
instead i've been left with utter silence
a pothole in my abdomen
an abyss the size
of a sesame seed
.
from my root, my mine my quarry
i must chisel a shard of peace
that you may bring with you to wherever it is dreamt angels float off to
.
i can only hope to see you in every blade of grass
the tips of hyacinth poking through
Winter's sapped earth
in every mote of pollen that clings to my hair
as you would have with a pudgy grasp
.
i've no choice but to believe in the perpetual