There is a tilt to the world
a lilt to the world
when I think of her
the imagined daughter
I might
just have
one day
a delight ringed by a thousand sadnesses
of losses I imagine
for it is only losses
I know of mothers and daughters
divisions and divides
in flesh so alike they
can not stay separate
there is a lilt
a tilt to the world
when I think of my mother
the imagined one I might just have
one day
bodies more alike than the great divide would suggest.
Dareth Ann Goettemoeller is a fine artist and art therapist with a collection of eccentric friends living in a liberal bubble amidst fields of corn, beans, grasshoppers, good old boys, jeans, and pink cowboy boots. Her favorite times are with coffee in hand, being stared at by her cats while filling yet another notebook with beautiful words of angst and love.