Earth Mother Bernice

Earth Mother Bernice

bends to serve,

with her perfect platonic nose,

my barbaric knife and fork,

baiting

lady’s stoneneck soul

providing any old bottle a cover,

but labels grow insignificant when lost in anticipation

5:00 shadows resound

all full-fledged into today,

the just tight ingredients,

exactly measured

I roughly trace the peeling of colors off these walls

mentally noting the remaining incantations of a masterpiece,

the fading paper

originated from someplace else

just to be

close enough to feel her breathe

9/29/72