Saturday, January 30, 2016

Mooring


The Morgue File
Watered
by Quicksandala


she passed me twice
head nodding
to some inner conversation
that only she could hear
lips curved their replies
wrapped in ribbons
around her ears

moored, in kelp beds so tangled
her ganglia
drifting across currents
only she can feel

fastening rag to bench
a tying off of ropes
rocked her gently
toward the dock where she had landed

pulling off bits
of rag or skin
I am not sure which.


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7 comments:

  1. What a beautiful rhyme that laps through this poem..i like that we don't quite know who or what she is..and yet she is there..certainly..and she feels special being able to hear those 'replies wrapped in ribbons around her ears'

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  2. You have created a sense of mystery in this poem, Audrey. Some pretty eerie parts, like pulling off bits of skin or rags, not sure which!

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  3. My favorite poet has done it again....there is an unsettling aspect to this poem, and yet an inquisitive aspect as well....like trying to see a scene through distorted glasses, if that makes any sense.

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  4. I like the clues and mystery in this poem - for some reason a boat comes to mind...

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  5. Wonderful writing! For me, this made me think of a chance encounter with a lost soul - as has occasionally happened to me. A truly poignant, evocative piece, filled with haunting, indelible images that evoke the desolation of the mentally ill, the marginalized and the disenfranchised human beings that live amongst us.

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  6. I, too, like the sway of mystery in this piece. A lovely bit of writing, Audrey. Good to "see" you~

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  7. Striking, captivating work. We don't need to know the exact, "literal" details of this story to be able to appreciate and relate to it.

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