Pale Blue Soul

I wasn’t ready. I could deny that I was ready,
that I was black consequence,
late.
I had blind chances,
but sight breaks
like disinfectant.

His quiet minutes blew off the wind.
His face said that he had no
direction;
empty and careless,
and I was a thoughtful child
going East.

We were west on the river together,
he wanted to float
like fire wood, but my
blood was a red earth drink,
fearing love and
death and
everything that
sickens in between.

I wasn’t ready to lay my spine calmly
over salmon and
kill the iron blackness
that tightened me deep inside
the roots of the land.

Life after life I planted sorrowfully.
She murdered me
with lima beans and raw potatoes.
I was in love.
I was in life with her,
the river,
the sky,
the Earth,

and then she cast a shriek against
my roots;
a massacre of my protection.
The sun went down and
a pale-blue winter soul
slid between my thighs,

and now I am her,
and I can never be ready.

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10 thoughts on “Pale Blue Soul

  1. Your poetry never ceases to amaze me, such depth, an old soul in a young person, very passionate and so well painted. You are indeed an artist who can be very huge if you wish.

  2. This relates to many of the sea-going adventure novels I’ve read. A true sibling of the earth and wind. I think you might like reading “My Old Man and the Sea” by David Hays and Daniel Hays (father and son authors.

    As always, I love your work.

    David

  3. The words deep and intuitive are vastly overused when commenting on poetry but when it comes to your writing, they can’t be used enough. The depth of your words depict a wisdom that many seek but few ever reach. Excellent poetry Maggie…I enjoy every word of it and I haven’t miss one on a very long time. Your words are one of the things which helped me through some pretty dark times over the past year….and now that the sun is shining again, I welcome them even more…

    Bill

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