Linda Nunes, When at Sea
Oh, Mother, Sing with Me
Suzanne Scarfone
One spring morning
not so long ago
my mother
followed a bluebird
through the wind
and tucked warbling
into the hollow
of a weeping willow.
I live alone now and listen.
In the morning fizz
swatting bumblebees
sweetened by hunger
I hear her mouth open pink to me
and suck honey from the sound.
Wild as river violets
her silvery breath
a blossomed strain.
Mother, pluck me.
I am ripe with sound.
Wave after wave
a daughter’s song of ocean bottom
shivers into the blue
of our water myth.
Feather-piped and rhyme charmed.
My birthright.
A bounty bequest.
My passage to delight.
Take me singing, mother.
Take me to the songs.
Humming, purring, belly songs.
Pale whispered simple songs.
Babbling, burbling, tongue songs.
Salt songs and seed songs.
Milk blue dream songs.
Suzanne Scarfone
One spring morning
not so long ago
my mother
followed a bluebird
through the wind
and tucked warbling
into the hollow
of a weeping willow.
I live alone now and listen.
In the morning fizz
swatting bumblebees
sweetened by hunger
I hear her mouth open pink to me
and suck honey from the sound.
Wild as river violets
her silvery breath
a blossomed strain.
Mother, pluck me.
I am ripe with sound.
Wave after wave
a daughter’s song of ocean bottom
shivers into the blue
of our water myth.
Feather-piped and rhyme charmed.
My birthright.
A bounty bequest.
My passage to delight.
Take me singing, mother.
Take me to the songs.
Humming, purring, belly songs.
Pale whispered simple songs.
Babbling, burbling, tongue songs.
Salt songs and seed songs.
Milk blue dream songs.