18 Nov grounding, By Faith Brooks
i.
At the spindle top
branch
balancing flightless,
thin and heavy,
when the siren sings
(Golden one golden one golden one)
of her –
Fleeing for earth,
exile’s attempt at homecoming
slip down bark,
scrape palms
break knees
prostrate to ground
shove a hand wrist-deep through stubborn soil
until elbow,
shoulder,
wracking knuckles against roots
ripping, tearing, wrapping
knot around the waist,
leashed.
ii.
(golden one)
She recognized me in my father’s shirt
Recognized me in this two-person body
all teeth without tongue
(I don’t know much about but I rub
lotion into her skin)
Recognized even the scars on
my blue dripping beast
Baby –
i.
Soft –
weighted belt
buckled
flat to forest floor,
warm leaf blanket
and sunlight streams –
Next to me she lies,
Hand in mine,
grounded.