Memory Demonstrates the Valley Fold
Teleprompting my mother last week—
splice question mark hands, migration routes:
homecoming takes four generations
to arrive in Mexico, polished and shined.
Freeze frame: Hold it. I’ve never been there.
When the chrysalis flusters,
cut to a bouldery landscape telling
a creation story, your choice—
“in the beginning” a science charm
like oxbows in rivers
and if a flower slow-mos inside out,
yes, the tissue fragment:
the beating of their wings the sound of light rain
at the back of the truck—
is bitterly cold
to a hardened
to throw light,
cleave a stone.
Snow geese murmur
mud a stopover
if you can’t see yourself,
the sun is about to—
Large tawny mother feeling,
with both hands—
Mary Cisper has returned to northern New Mexico after completing an MFA at Saint Mary’s College of California. Recent work appears in Hayden’s Ferry Review, Terrain, and Denver Quarterly (forthcoming).