A soft place to land
by Tanisha Dunac
(Ars Poetica inspired by Tatiana Johnson Boria)
I rest in paper reeds wearing my fathers face
Begging for a soft place to land
and mercy a forked road split tongue toward- away divinity
like black liquorice I did leave the church
I just kept the praise and the guilt
I pray in case of fire besides a cracked window
Hearing sirens of a gashed motherland
My sisters the tremor of a phantom father iron their uncombed kinks
Harvest my mothers wounds on a good day
Passes down how to thaw in absence
I do not count growing pains without
remembering my mother A master of bearing joy
She's unable to tell me when she dies
A restless root buried next to her husband
Who is buried next his lover
Who is not my mother
I watch the quiet blink of her eye forced to forget
a memory dies in utter silence
the wind
comes
blowing Orange blossoms
smelling sweet til they hit the ground
I find fruit here on this vine Falling too deep
in to metaphor wondering why I met you for
I wanted more than to see the colors of my seasons change
I won’t save me any other way