with mother's eyes - I

her dress
hangs like
the
convicted
from a lone
willow
in the woods
by a rope
strung
with
auburn hair.

and her eyes
see
right through
it all.

upon her chest,
a silver cross
without
Christ,
laced in beads
and fine thread.

death on her
fingertips,
and a smile
to match.

she makes
the cares
flutter
away
like dust
from the dead.

and what she's
brewing
smells sweet
as she touches you
with the tip of her tongue.

every moment
is hers
as the wind whistles
and the body
falls-
it's as if
we're all corpses
in mother's eyes.

but she helps you die
in a way
that takes
the troubles
away,
and leaves
you melting
in the womb
of her heart.

the blessed
flesh
she strips
so
slowly.

with
a bold slit
for lips
before
the grin,
she licks
away
the sin
and leaves you
stunning.

she holds
you before
the life
drips away,
and she'll
keep you
for another
day
when your eyes
are ripe
and can
see her
in the
very same
way.