What phase

What phase of sun

First saw the Catholic mother?

Rough beads,

— Not smooth from her oiled ridges —

Notched, dented

With taps and digs:

Reminder of different sins and worries

The son in Chicago, the breath In his mouth

On different brown skin.

Tymbals mounting,

Morning dishes under soap-teared Mary.

The sun bakes and curls,

Lights your swollen ridges,

Ridges which they tell me differ from

All other, praying, morning forms.

"Aerobics" by Marina Alaeva.