do you want to come out?

Greek Easter
 
Bury me, your son
demans. Warm sand
 
leaves black dust
on our palms. We heap
 
his goosepimpled legs,
damp swimsuit,
 
soft belly, crossed arms.
He laughs, wiggles
 
his toes out and we
bury them again. No,
 
he says, bury me
all the way. So we place
 
a towel over his face,
blanket it with grit.
 
We can see sand rustle
when he breathes.
 
Do you want to come out?
we ask. Nmph, he muffles.
Perissa (Thira), 2006
 
 
 
 
 
 

April is Poetry Month. We’re celebrating here with a poem a day, by giving out poems like candy when you visit us, and discounting all poetry books by 10%. Because reading poetry is a fairly acceptable form of social deviance. And we’re all about that.

About these ads

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry Month 2012

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s