Janisse Ray
Land of Milk and Honey:
Homage to My Home in the South
1. milk
the moon a pond of magnolia
petals. porcelain moonflowers
twining bleached bones
of deer. china saucers scraping
the whitewashed cupboard. enamel
pan. white-hot water singing
against the lacy skull of milch cow.
angel cake crumbs of milkweed
fluff tugged from its pod by seven
white horses of wind. breasts
beneath cotton gowns of ibis-winged
women. panting of women.
cirrus throats of sparrows.
panther claw scratching
at a parchment window. moth
papers. hairs of my grandmother
cupping white eggs of doves.
powdery ashes of white oak, sifted
through the moon’s cheesecloth.
fog of the morning of every
branch’s birth and winter child’s
breath tatting tiny flowers. dew
on gardenias like buttermilk.
meringue on a frothy creek.
tablecloth clattering its teeth. Venus.
the evening star hissing through
faded arms of white sycamore
like a rain of milk.
2. honey
slant of October sunlight on tupelo
hives. saddlebags of worker bees
spilling gunpower across Sunday.
drone of barred owls. catacombs
of fertile eggs from rusty chickens.
iron bolts. wagon tongues groaning
with the weight of coming night.
feathers of crowing cocks. tannic.
Ten Mile Creek pouring toward the
golden river, morning of the river.
humps of cypress. poplar hand-hewn
into table, axe-handle. wildflower fire
leaving a brick chimney above a thousand
chipping sparrows in thunder-showers
of longleaf burrs. early fall on red clay.
rainwater funneling toward the branch,
past a crockery bowl filled with
a queen’s brown eggs. outside
the window, fields of clover. inside,
warm bread and an open jar.
3. the land
one with spoon and the other
with vessel, and open mouth.
one with spoon and the other
held to the lips.
Earth,
I thank you. |