Morrie Greene

under the 
robinbone sea    

    a dot
             a spot
                       a blot
              of brownandwhite
           children
                     sent
             by tallow words on
                     vinegar wind
                grow
                from the sand and silt
                in a wormwood womb
                     under the maypole
                     under the robinbone sea

                hyenas of a watery world
                give them suck - moonstruck
                           milk and manna
                       give them resurrection
                in the fishy depths
      birdmen, longtailed swallows,
           and Neptune's darlings
    are their playthings
                there

           rockfish eyes... guardians
       streaming seaweed
                  their wet nurse
                          sphinx
                     watches with
      unblinking eye
        as
            salted snowflakes
           fall
    like plummeting fears
            (orwasit tears?)

 the world's gentle wound
         they are,
                flailing, grumbling,
                    reveling, swimming
          in the season
of death and rebirth
          in the depths of their forgotten freedom,
          in their windcombed algaed bed

          under the maypole
          under the robinbone sea

            a dot
                      a spot
                              a blot
     of brown and white children,
       transplanted
            grown tall and long and strong
  scuttle and swim in
         this hallowed house,
         this strange and holy house,
         this foster home away from home
till ... soon, very
                      soon now...

    the Saharas of man will
             groan and roar
                          and leap and
                          sleep
             tight-lipped in Valhalla,
  the vast and lofty hall of Death

then shall
   earth's gentle wound
               rise up
  from under the maypole
  from under the robinbone sea
                          to spit
               in the dead eye of man
                 and
                   demand
     inheritance
     due...
                      legacy of earth's
                      gentler hand

                      halos and Eve's
                      breast home

                      phosphorescence
                      and
                          the robin's
                          bone...

 


Bio:

Morrie Greene’s day job is teaching 3rd graders in a small city in Texas. She is the author of several chapbooks, Poetic Passion, Search Inside, Reaping in a Wild Garden, and the most recent, For Your Head. Her “The Power of Woman” poem was chosen to be the theme of International Women's Media Festival March 8, ‘99 on Austin’s and Houston’s Public Access TV and KO-OP radio. Ms. Greene has been published in Voices that Echo in Time (Beaver Press), Seven Southern Voices (Beaver Press), White Tail (Maverick Press), and Glass Cherry. She is working a new poetry book, The Other Side.

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