Basin: A Poem


These flood damaged photographs
speak in your voice

Rez timbre, deep for a woman,
they say

There are no pictures
of a shallow grave

that I could paint with any words
sufficient enough
to bottle you up in

The angels drink you down,
golden & smooth,

& I try not to choke
on too much bitterness

I won’t color anything
in shades of prophecy

I can’t be sure what life,
what life’s end,

what the next season,
next dust storm,

or monsoon of change,
will bring,
but you helped my unbelief

I feel pain in my knees constantly
from ingrained praying for you,

& you’re better attentive
& close enough to hear me now,
aren’t you?

One day I will wash your body
for the first & last time

& you won’t be
so heavy anymore

Published by Jennifer Patino