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to calm the mother

In by Bunc on February 3, 2019 at 9:52 pm

sauvignon stains of nostalgia which fade
to shrieks that drip red from where his door is,
tiny tooth buds blossom into switchblades
and slice her dreams open like caesuras

but never pauses. it flows unbroken,
as sure as the dawn of each brand new way
to fail her like a vow, only spoken
in old cathedrals that serve cabernet

grapes once abundant lay dead on the vein
ever since her rivers broke, post-parted,
and piped into empty cages, mundane
as these calendar pages discarded

a dry syrah, a life compressed in two
to calm the mother, any red will do


(Note: This is a reinterpretation of “Calm the Mother. Any Red Will Do” by Scheherazade Washington Parrish)

  1. Wow this is beautiful.

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