BY LISBETH WHITE
in the sea / and in
the headline / such traffic
this morning / a mother
and her 3 children / babies
the color / of rounded copper
were washed / distended
on the shore / flesh gapped
and puckered / with black
twine / how long
does salt sting / before
the opened / body
is sanitized / before the body
becomes / its own
sinless sacrifice / i believe
this was how / their mother
offered comfort / once a captain
decided / the price now
for passage / kidneys
precious stones / her
liver also / luxe
as mink / this must
be how she / coaxes
our release / this sea
we also call / mother
limbs loose / water
and foam / rocking
so unceasing / we believe
ourselves / rough treasure
become / our own
diaspora / that she may
pull the suffering / from
our skin / crystalline
to her sandy breast / and
so unweighted / we
float.
Lisbeth White is a writer currently residing in the Pacific Northwest, whose work has appeared in Obsidian: Literature & Arts in the African Diaspora, The Rumpus, Kweli, Blue Mountain Review, Apogee, Split This Rock and elsewhere. She is currently working on an experimental hybrid nonfiction project about elemental medicine and archetypal mythology. You can find her musings on Instagram: @earthmaven or www.lisbethwrites.com
Process Note: The impetus behind all of my writing seems to arise from questions-- not so much "why" but an ever-present wondering of connectedness. There is such a weave to all our different lives. I am constantly feeling for the threads.