Portrait of Me Incensing the Mushrooms Channeling Demeter

by kizziah burton

after María Sabina

I am the watch and the living wake
says the voice singing for the daughter’s return
says the one attentive to what is happening
says the inner eye opening when the taper burns out
says the eye that looks into the secret heart of things
says the one walking behind the one lost from the one who looks
says the mother searching says the daughter wandering says the one watching
says the river that divides them says the bridge says the one following the one walking across
says the ancestor and the child says the first and the last says the ghost all the ghosts moving in circles says the one swinging the torch in the realm of the dead
says the stalker hunting the stranger that hides the daughter behind his back
says the mother burying her life in quicksand like a dog buries a bone to come back for later
says the quicksand sucking down two lives says the hook in the daughter’s mouth
says the hand tenderly unhooking the lip releasing her body like a fish into the water
says the childhood she molts and abandons on the rock says the boundary she tries to push
says the abyss where they stand says the crossroads where they are stuck says the bystander watching says the startled breath in the dark giving them all away says the smudged mascara under her eye
says the tattoo of ink says the line of kohl she draws on the rim of her eyes to worship death
says the ash smeared in horizontal lines under each eye says the grief squatting in the cellar forging loss into a weapon says the wound the wounded and the one who wounds says the light
gouging out her eyes sunbeams stiff as sticks says the sun speeding up its rotation
says the tourniquet someone rotates for the needle says the strap clenched in her teeth pulling back tight says the pain killer says the noiseless crime abandoned and unforgiven beneath the gloom says the water she drowns in says the thirst she seeks to quench in the river says the shadow deformed and moving says the unidentified body turning in the shallows says the silt of the river accepting everything that drifts downwards says the memory the water forgets says the shore swimming away in moonlight
says the dirt road she walks says the homesickness no root can cure
says the scraping rock the daughter coils around to shed her genesis
says the dead of night tunneling the labyrinths says the mud suck under her foot
says the voice eating the mushrooms searching for my daughter’s soul in the realm of the dead