Phil Poole
Mother
Now you are gone and I have seen,
Within embrace of oak and soil,
You stiff, confined, I do not know
For whose approval I should toil.
My dummy head revolves and grins
Though the ventriloquist has retired,
Lets other hands manipulate
The jaw aslack, project the word.
May, like a ghost within the vein
As haemoglobin presence felt
Singing the blood’s inherited song,
Your atoms swim, intelligent
As you were also host and must
Keep on good terms with every ghost.
Page(s) 47
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