Let My Finnish Bones Sweat

finland 1968 george f mobley

Finland 1968 George F Mobley

Nothing matters but the rain
beating glory from balloons
driving our clothes heavy
in sheaths against our cemetery sides.

We came to heal,
we came to mourn,
all in all we came newborn
to the possibilities your deaths open.

Later, saunas will welt it out of us
until we’re left with all we’ve got
a collection of pebbles
and livestock bones
enough for some

strange for others.

Continuation.

Brenda Warren 2014

 

Thank you Tess, and The Mag, for ekphrastic inspiration.

9 thoughts on “Let My Finnish Bones Sweat

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