For Erleen. May your beautiful mother-soul rest in peace.
it took you two minutes to read me,
to tell me what i sound, smell, taste like;
it took me two centuries to come out of my cave
and play, a web of shining sound hanging
from shaking teeth. i am slave,
manufacturer, warrior, priest, king: all
embodied, poised to inherit the earth.
but it is the minor keys of the mother
being played out in the background—
ever layering, ever loving—
that will win out in the end;
the weak in reverse,
the binaries of her
music box—slight and
strong—turning, bending in
the wind, building the
work of the world.