Put to death (Draft).

Put to death

I was no longer a daughter
of the other—

I buried myself in the digital pillow
then the real one
leaving me open.

White like bone,
my body will be buried in the bathtub
of the garden; painted red, love goes mad
in cuts of my family. Dead roses in my mouth rise
born long before I spoke a word of this

put to death,
last night I dreamt
a kiss as good as snow white

swarming wrens
above our hair,
undid in bodies
I beat down my bones into the dirt
the bones that begged for rest.

© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Written for the 7/05/2021 Earthweal prompt:

For this challenge, let’s celebrate Interdependence Day.

  • What does it mean to be a citizen of the world’s weal?
  • How is your congress composed? What human and nonhuman orders participate?
  • What place is there for dead and lost
  • What new orders are there to celebrate?
  • What songline describes the interdependent weal?
  • What origin story might be told of our transitional time in the centuries to come?
  • What does it mean to hope without even understanding what there is to hope for anymore? How is that radical?

These are just a few ideas. Have at your way — you always do …

I wrote for the thought of “What place is there for dead and lost?” My thoughts are first into our heads, then into the ground. It’s an emotional process, and I explore a little bit of grief in this poem. Hope you could enjoy. 🙂

12 thoughts on “Put to death (Draft).”

  1. Lucy, this is a timely poem for me to be reading right now, given the recent discovery in Canada of hundreds of unmarked graves of children outside former residential schools……a definite case of abuse of the “other” – when will humans learn there are no “others” – only “us”? Your poem is very thought-provoking with some powerful imagery. The stanza that begins “White like bone” is especially arresting.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Sherry. ❤

      I saw that briefly in my news feed today and I felt a mixture of surprise and non-surprise. I’ve vaguely heard of things like this before, and it’s still heartbreaking to see in the world. It’s so easy to forget, but like you say when will we see others just as important as ourselves? We tend to brush aside atrocities of the past but these people were once like us too; they had thoughts, ideas, and hopes.

      When will we learn? It’s a great question, but I don’t think we ever will unless we gain more empathy extending outside of us.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I love the surrender here to nature’s sundering, the body’s opening to devouring by death and her agents. All who serve life’s resurrection from mortal matters. The dead are never lost – like water, it abides in our thought and substance. Such grief is also a welcome. – Brendan

    Liked by 1 person

    1. solicitude
      for the man in tremendum
      fully mad in autumn

      the sea-winds grew
      stood alone upon my labor
      in a cement box; it wasn’t an act of love
      nor was it an act of god,

      and now I see the dead potatoes
      of our graves.


  3. This seems like an experience many people might have gone through during lockdown ‘I buried myself in the digital pillow
    then the real one’ – even those not directly affected by covid might be indirectly affected by inner demons from which it can seem there is no escape. Maybe this was not your intention but it spoke to me in this way. Wonderfully dark imagery.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much, Ingrid, for your thoughts and feedback. I did intend a feeling of isolation in those lines—inner conflict and as well mental health struggles. I feel like many are definitely going through that especially in these times, and it isn’t easy.

      Liked by 1 person

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