that pinch
at the edge
of my soul
a pinned
donkey tail
a needle
and thread,
O Michael,
O Gabriel
spin me
another sentence
my tongue grows thick
with the language if it,
our rift,
these limits of kith
& kin, relation,
being human
scabby and raw
I take the words
and sing
them to the trees
return them
to the earth, a nut,
a seed, a leaf.
By Reka Jellema & Kathryn Ross
Copyright March 2015