Excerpt from Measuring For Balance by Author Demitri Tyler
Bosom Dirt
My mother laughed and said, “Son I made you,
blew life into your cheeks and now I can just eat
you up, mm mmm mm precious baby of my
bosom!”
Her smile was as proud and wide as the horizon
carrying the weight of the distant sun, her worry
moon eye still watches over me when night as
has come.
Her wind guides my steps her rain fosters my growth
I am the treasured fruit of all her hopes though, no
more than what she says in worth.
Precious child of her bosom dirt.
© Demitri Tyler
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