top of page

Teresa A. Phipps

Before

Fell down from the river

a village collapsed

then settled

Shuffled in during

that century

when lined faces

hadn't any names

Card houses ran amok

among thin hands and

bony fingers

I can still hear the clatter of the moving contraptions of that forgotten race

Ode to the Dead

Counting bones

is like humming a new song

I can slide her name

"The oldest of the old"

between slices of bread

Pound these bones

into powder

with my rage

I will sing for the long forgotten

To the Goddess of Never Was

I will hear her laugh

as I bite down

Swimming Lessons

Drawn from deep waters

the sea pulls them close to her

tells them stories of mothers

who tossed their daughters

into the deep

Daughters who couldn't swim

daughters who learned

to be

mermaids

in the school of hard knocks

Daughters who learned

whale-song 

instead of 

nursery rhyme

The mothers shrug their shoulders,

push their toes into the sand

The sea keeps them, 

unremembered

bottom of page