reverberation

I stand in the center of an echo.
There is no sound except what I hold in my palm.
I am not mother, I am the grist rubbing mother raw—refusing to become pearl .

Mother does not speak.
Mother is a billboard sign advertising dishwashing detergent.
The bottle and her hands holding it are torn off; her smile does not notice the
missing  hands.
I walk into a rainstorm in the desert.
There is no sand except what is seeping into the river.
I am not daughter, daughter is a mirage floating in Mother’s echo.

Mother does not like sand.
Mother vanishes, chasing a pearl .
Mother’s smile pours out from the bottle.
Mother approaches from the deserted center.
Mother empties daughter into her hands and rubs them raw.
Mother refuses the river.

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© Kayt Hoch -all rights reserved; see details here for publication / use permission.

the poem reverberation  by Kayt Hoch was first published in TinFish vol. 20 - Summer 2010 - Susan M. Schultz editor