dead mother

my dead mother's photo

the flip side --

a rusty discolored poem



not an elegy

not a lullaby



not a grandiose prayer for the dead

not a crackpot obituary



not the sentimental maunderings

of an old man who misses

his momma



this poem's jagged rhythm

thumps in the watery

uterine deeps

in the terrifying gorges

of the archaic goddess



she howls --

this poem's the panicked squall

of coming into this life

and the terrifying prospect

of leaving it