Bernadette Hall


Constructing A Landscape - Poem by Bernadette Hall

Mother to son

Fifteen years these hands
have leaved about you; here's

the church & here's the steeple;
constructing a landscape.

Exalted from the initial dunking,
you prise the slats, escape artist;

beating like a fontanelle
within the ngaio tree.

The movement being ever outwards.
Go then, from this softer shadow;

love your own sexy sweetness;
trust your own truth.

See for yourself how we all
do glint, one off another.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, October 17, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, October 23, 2013

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