Photograph by Reka Jellema. June 2011. Untitled. For Addie.
Unraveling
Plastic taste of water in her jug, loose threads in a crocheted rug How long before it unravels Remembering my ball in the boot Just wanna kick it, kick it and run My feet punching holes in the snow Mum yellin' at me -- for doin' nothin' Grabbin' me in a hug squeezin' the breath outta me, she reckons Nana's better off here She's far better off there, Sis Look at her she doesn't even know you anymore, and this place look at it No, I don't mean it like that You know I don't mean Don't look at me like that I called I wrote I came back didn't I? How could he look at me that way? he was a liar, a prattler, like Da. My raw bones crawl into the edges of that shawl The one Mum crocheted her fingers gray and worn This bench is cold and on the road a car slow and shined as death drives by it's hard to breathe-- the playground bairns stare snowballs at me Mum is near a memory I'm losing my way home With Kathryn Ross and Brendan Bonsack By Kathryn Ross, Brendan Bonsack, and Reka Jellema October 2014
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 Photograph by Reka Jellema. September 2014. Untitled What Shape it Takes
See how this love for you Has channeled my face Trace tributaries From brow to cheek Give me your hand And ask what shape It takes. This love I gave in perfect drops Of melting snow The saline bead poised At the mountain top Written with Brendan Bonsack By Brendan Bonsack and Reka Jellema September 2014 
We pulled up
In the lay by To let the seasons pass Browned oak Leaves and a Pair of hands Turned on A branch Upon occasion Our shoulders Touched Snow bunched In the wheel hubs The roadside ponies Quieted we missed ice Turned off winter, A television Screen We watched the Seasons pass Two oranges Our picnic Sun dimmed Petrol-fumed breath You stood apart Under a new Moon I fell Asleep to the Levee Deep in a Pouch of the Down low tones Of you, Singing autumn On the way In the lay by Where we Stopped -- shivering Ice laced milkweed Seasonally By Reka Jellema and Brendan Bonsack July 2014  Silvery confetti loosed from on high, lacing Scotch pines We held our breath, hushed by winter white The dog licked snow from the sky  |
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