Agoloso Presents - Atondido Stories Agoloso Presents - Mama Mada | Page 207

Mama Mada
The Water-Carrier by Niall Cam p b e ll
I want to be the worst of this profession,
the one who makes it home half-empty, tipping
more air than water from the ringing pot,
and so late back the town’s already dark;
Oh no, they’ll say, that’s not the way of it,
and I’ll know their heaven’s brimful and undrunk,
their lips parched.
What do they know of the kiss
on the shoulder of that first spilt drop,
the tuneful drip, drip, drip on the stone path?
Midway home, midway from the source, my dream-sun
bleaching the sky, what could be better than
dry road ahead, my flooded road behind?
I Heard the Sparrows Aging by Le ah Um ansk y
I heard the sparrows aging
a devouring call
a broken spring, there, turning.
a sputtering of what sounds like keys
the lost just within a-reach
Tenants of the past nearly a-hold
Oh, the horse and the rapture;
The horsefly and the rupture.
to a sleepy pungent
a beautied terror
a backward giving
and the rain coughing…
Let the gutter turn operatic.
I will sing of the heart
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