Lacie Semenovich is the author of a chapbook, Legacies (Finishing Line Press, 2012). Her poetry has appeared in The Ghazal Page, Leveler, Muddy River Poetry Review, B O D Y, Nixes Mate Review, Misfit Magazine, and other journals. Find her at: https://www.facebook.com/Lacie-Clark-Semenovich-118186874859216
The Only Thing My Mother Knows
My mother boils cow tongue in her grandmother’s stock pot.
Her left hand stirs with hard learned grace. The right hand lost
in childhood fever, nerves forgot how to speak to muscle.
Her arm glows with the pearlescent sparkle of unused skin.
The water laps in currents around the tongue, language released
in steam and hunger conveys the only thing my mother knows –
life asks only for life. When one thing dies another thrives.
A humming starts in her throat, works its way into the steam,
an old tune her grandmother taught her to bless the lost, to bring
luck to what remains. Mind you, she always says, nothing is ever
lost. It’s always made new.