Unblemished Love

The comfort of a mother
Has all measure
When guts have splattered
The pale, white wall
And you find that you feed
On seeds
Of abstract gloom.
Your life’s straddled on the
death horse
And you speed on a night’s
dark mare
But she’s still there
Willowing in the wind
As her skirt quilts your
She’s gone along
And you needn’t reel the words.
She has saqaciousness to thread
And put you back together
With embroidered preciseness.
The comfort of a mother
Is the smile, the touch
The gathering of fallen leaves.

–Caroline Cammack
from “The Hot House Lily” published 1976