Come to me, his blood by Martha Rhodes | Poems Rethabile Likes
Come to me, his blood by Martha Rhodes | Poems Rethabile Likes Come to me, his blood by Martha Rhodes Come to me, his blood, so I may cup you, be reservoir and ladle, both— clean, store, and stir. Then serve you back to him. Come to me, his blood, ill, so I may warm, sieve, and funnel you back to him; his cheeks ruddy again, his head in my lap. The wind is up! and sails our boat across Farm Pond, our friends on shore waving us to picnic time— a hammock-nap, a swim— all four of us, all well. Not dozens of summers ago, but now, this final Sunday in July, ...