by Marcia J. Pradzinski
Let his body down in our
grainy ribbons of light
along the bones of me.
On the ground, come morning the grasses will genuflect
with a dozen swirling constellations.
How silently a heart pivots on its hinge—
silent as the moment before the world was.
he falls into darkness,
receding from my grasp—
a person can die of motherhood.
Cento Sources: David Caddy, Kwame Davis, Dorianne Laux, Alison Croggon, Cynthia Brackett Vincent, Marcia Hurlow, Jane Hirshfield, Elvis Alves, Hedy Habra, Louis Gallo, Karen Bowles, Sage Cohen