A Patchwork by Steven L. Peck
Monday, August 8th, 2011She rests on her grandmother’s quilt,
the Spring air cool, but sun warming—healing
Winter’s darkness.
She, face turned to the sun,
is thinking back on the line of mothers
who gave her being and body . . . She thinks about
an Eve, way back . . .
Out of some Cambrian longing
her distant grandmother emerged
hard shelled, many limbed,
singular in purpose, only [...]