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Poetry By
  Cate Cowie

Published on: 2/12/2015

Oh Mother,
you did not leave
us pearls or rings or
even dollar bills,
but instead a bible,
prayers for spouses,
and an edict to light
the candles you burnt
every anniversary of
your mother's and sister's deaths.

You named us
after the stars,
a prophet,
and brave men
and women,
but alas we will
not see the kingdom
that you have just come into.

You gave us kings and queens,
godheads with wine and water,
bloodshed and pain.
But we wanted the world;
things that tinkle, clatter and boom,
swaying bodies and drunken spirits,
things that swallowed our eyes
and filled our hands.
We wanted miracle and mystery
but without final destinations.

Published on: 2/10/2015

coming undone,
one button, now ten,
undone in some
flung-out of the way hotel,
my belly bloated with your soul,
my soul, an unraveling thread,
springs like a coil, explodes.

your touch lingers,
whole years swallowed
by a palm on an elevator ride,
opening flowers
that are not yours,
opening a body
that is mine.

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