Poetry at Sangam



For heaven’s sake: and it was her mother by James Byrne

Look away long enough and these clouds
will pass to the south. Home was a place
I had to hide in, patient as a chrysalis.
For years, I dug the earth to make sense
of what I might endure or tunnel out
from: not restored but marked, awkward.
To live without is to be pursued. Night
after night, I swim in a hood of mud.