Mother’s Night

By: Laurie Corzett/libramoon

About the Author:  seeking outlet for those crazy thoughtstreams, is always moving into new (or resurrected) projects, including Emerging Visions visionary art ‘zine; an experimental metafiction, working title: Something Sacred; a (envisioned as) graphic novel , Acts of Desolation:  as well as her Utopian Flash Fiction Project — series of flash fiction pieces around a federation of diverse villages each working out their methods of community life — little dramatic impacts illustrating creative solutions to social problems.

Storm Front @2011 Karla Fetrow

Mothers’ Night

cascading shards
uneasy
echoes falling
“It’s our calling.”

Rape of Earth,
hot spurts of words
savage knives
Abiding Mothers,
sacred and mundane
twist into harridan
cold stars

wail, hurtling waves
Sad, old, crust of ages
sliced, screwed, carved up for profit
“It’s not the color of the skin,
the culture of the smile”

the scent of danger,
the inborn stranger —
all excuses for Us (superior)
and Them (inferior)
“They are not like we;
but lower curs.”
we may harm with unfettered glee

Cursed to be cut to our requirement.
Borders clear
“Here, fear fences in
our livelihood and wives.”
Leave THEM to putrid pits
cunning jabs,
our pleasure.

Thus, all treasure that might regale,
heal, reveal true worth,
of man and Earth
sold for pittance of potash
to dance a weary jig

May 10, 2010