Sunday, January 13, 2008

Fertile Ground: Selected Poetry Read

for Tifa

Seven years without milk
means everyone dances for joy
on your birthday
but when you clap   your hands
break at the wrist
and even grandmother's ghee
cannot mend
the delicate embroideries
of bone.

From Our Dead Behind Us by Audre Lorde

1 comment:

Rethabile said...

Wow. Strong emotion in a simple package. I like that. I think I've liked every poem of hers i've ever read.