Margo Berdeshevsky: For Autumn, 2023

When the bough breaks

and the winds of war-shame

hurl every life

down like the song’s

child-y broken cradle,

what holy land will hold

one candle for its seeds,

one for any who hold

the olive unearthed, any—

planted for that infant named

peace — Not a mama’s

breast, not a mourning fighter,

only laryngitic singers rocking

the new in boxes, cradled

now under another boot-kill,

Lullabye quiets for

the too soon closed ,

—one tune for when

the stench is cleaned,

one rockabye ballad

some other bough

will break for

—eyes in the fog of not

the first or last anno domini,

yet awake to the fallen

leaves—their many many

tiny burning

hands—

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Margo Berdeshevsky, born in New York City, lives and writes in Paris. Her most recent  collection is Kneel Said the Night (a hybrid book in half-notes) from Sundress Publications. 

Copyright 2023 Margo Berdeshevsky, published in Vox Populi by permission of the author.