My Mother is a Talking Poem - Julie Ann Schrader

[Larry Robinson]

 My Mother is a Talking Poem 

My mother is a talking poem
her inside turned out.
the threads that weave her thoughts together
unravel into surrender,
lifted up on currents of dark wings
that caress the night sky
 
Her tongue is loosened and her words fall out
here and there, fumbling their way
from dreams to memories 
to visits from loved ones long-departed.
She strings them together in open-eyed wonder
at the sounds they impress upon the air.
She laughs at her own inner secrets.
 
The angels of music and poetry visit her at night.
They are singing loose the keynote
that anchors her body to this earth.
 
In their presence I allow her words
to meander around inside of me
I open to drink in the sounds of her voice
My blue petals imprinted with each inflection.
Under their spell
I have become my mother’s Forget-Me-Not
each memory bud blessed
with the cross-pollination
of her meter and her rhyme.
 
	- Julie Ann Schrader 
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