Lorena Axman Freed
Requiescat
Slumber my son upon the palms of ocean,
whose carbon crumbles in its jaw of motion.
Yet cupped like so much river, as the sea's
step-son, I dream your soul, in matrices
of water, hatched and brushed away the salt
from wilting eyelids finally to vault
to no body's somebody in no language.
It is a wonder that will never vanish
before me, to believe the everlasting
way of all flesh is to be remade, casting
itself together in worlds unsurpassed.
Except, of course, that real things do not last.
Bio
Lorena Axman Freed is a poet living in her native Ohio, and received her BA in English from the University of Rochester. She enjoys gardening, gaming and playing paintball. She is glad to have become a morning person without the aid of coffee.