Kitchen Table MFA (Madwomen): My Mother as Walden Pond
Words By Tess Barry, Art By Karen Arnold
This poem is part of the Kitchen Table MFA, a series that showcases writing communities through interviews and creative writing.
“My Mother as Walden Pond” was previously published in Aesthetica: The Art and Culture Magazine, UK
Out of her twig-filled lungs a strong wind whirls
she is a small stream obstructed
a standing body
water-filled
in spring she floods parched uplands
in winter bristles over
she is walkable and swimmable
apple-tree wood roots inside her teeming throat
her calves and feet are pliable
as leisure
her fingers alburnum
white-paved stones encircle her
and mark the solitary home
of one lone Loon who laughs loud
at her watered-down jokes
she is time gestated in the song of whip-poor-will,
a seventeen-year Concord locust hatched of ribbed solitude
the serenade of fox, the swoop
of owl, a clear deep well of April green
the rising steam in January thaw
neither inlet or outlet
some think her bottomless
or speculate man-made
some say brought forth by rod
she contains herself in color
appears altered at a distance
sometimes her blue reflection rises
in the form of firm-fleshed fish
they swim her depths
which are transparent
Read Nancy Reddy’s interview with Madwomen here. Read the other members’ work from Madwomen here and here.