Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Tuesday Poem - 'what she says about her girlfriend's mother' by Susan Hawthorne

one day she looks down the throat of her child
who has been playing in the mud eating dirt
there inside the mouth is the universe
trees seas mountains and everything in between
there are cows feeding calves the milk
spilling around the calves' mouths
a giant snake curls around a tree trunk
the snake and the cow are morphing
the dividing line between them blurred
as the sea's edge on any beach
the mothers are trying hard to contain their children
but what can you do when the world is held
in an open mouth?

from: Cow by Susan Hawthorne, Spinifex Press, 2011

'This is non-homogenised, non-pasteurised poetry, full-bodied and in no need of supplement.' - berni m janssen

I heard Susan read at the Melbourne Poet's Union recently and was so impressed by the humour, playfulness and warmth of her work. Cow is a terrific collection!

Watch out for Susan Hawthorne at The Word Tree, first Saturday in May.

1 comment:

Mary McCallum said...

Jen, this poem is so fabulous - especially given world events: the dreadful earthquakes in Christchurch and Japan - the thought of the world in a mouth that might close any minute is simply amazing. I love the playfulness of this poem and its plain strength. What I don't get is the title...