and she chooses to believe in the hymns her mother used to sing
ahead I hear the same dog barking and the jasmine smells come strong now-
Tell me homecoming stories Eyes closed tight and running
til the sounds slow come to be familiar
with familiar and forgotten glories
I heard today that it's been breathing
air that's been killing us all these years
I always thought it was the bitter parts of our hearts we kept to breed-
But all it is
is this strange breath we momentarily concede
My Mother's Face has wrinkles
that I trace in photos and hope one day I'll have the same
her's was the child hooded mothered by
barefeet and brisbane unending sun to take her home from class
and still
she breathes
and still
she breathes
and daily imparts new parts to me
Jasmine flowers are not the smell of my childhood
yet they take my mind and make me think of home- and I don't mind
so much of the breathing when I know they're 'round
No sound to make proud,
but gifts
in drifts of warm lipped
dark night's kiss
Like louder building gospel blues-
I know I'm close to home