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.