Tag Archives: eyes

The Best Gatherer

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

I remember you best
at blackberry time:

The best gatherer
of our time
who could out-pick
the Champion Blackberry King
with his shining buckets
and mounds upon
mounds
of the gems
shining
like your shining
eyes were,
dark, almost black.

I remember you best
when I go
into the woods
to gather berries,
reaching out
for the shining black
eyes
and seeing your brown,
strong hands again,
coming home
to show us
your treasures.

How good it felt
this blackberry time.

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Eyes

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

I remember you
the last time,
when everything
I did grated on
you
and spilled
out of your eyes
onto the ground.

Even the black dog,
the one you carried
in your arms
out of that place,
tried to catch your
eyes,
but you turned
away.

I tried not to look at
the disappointment
that spilled
out over her eyes
onto the ground.

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Looking at You

a photograph by Sonja Bingen

Looking at You

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Gifts

on Ethel’s birthday

Bring to me water
Taken from the well of the moon.
Bring to me bread
Baked into brown, round loaves.

This is my water and bread:
My woman with hands as white as the moon
And eyes as dark as the brown loaves
Bringing me the food and drink of life.

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Night

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

The laughing
black bear
disappears
into the sky-
I know he’s there
only because
of the glints
of light
flashing
in his eyes.

copyright,I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico, 2010.

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Life

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

we went past
somebody’s place,
and there were things
sitting all over
and kids
and a woman looking
out a window
at a cat,
and the kids
were in puddles
with their eyes in oceans,
and they were waiting
for a storm or something,
and the place
looked twice as junky
as it did when the snow was,
but it didn’t matter
because it smelled warm,
and the sky was heavy,
and life stood in the mud, open-mouthed.

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