Deep in the cotton petals of a watermark
I see my father stacking sheets of plywood,
his hands freckled with sawdust, his silvery
white skin flickering in the sun, my mother
standing beside him, measuring each plank
of wood, her eyes like blackberries floating
in a pool of milk. She says, 'There's something
wrong, ' and fog settles like an argument.
A Coca-Cola bottle sweats on the picnic table,
the petals of pansies curl into tight yellow fists,
and my parents stand there, like boards that won't
fit, like two splintered edges refusing to meet.
-from Tar River Poetry
This is a beautiful poem found in a watermark. (I marvel at places poets find poems.) Thank you for this one. Raynette
Thank you for posting. THIS is excellent work, and a treat ro read
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the wonderful visual quality of your images, the details you present, that I found in your other poems, are here too. I'm glad I caught your name on the Forum page.