Catch and Release: Poems
Catch and Release
Shovel in the soil
my mother pulled a drag
took a swig
lifted her eyebrows.
Without asking
I understood.
Sliding softly from the hook
her deft fingers left
only blood.
Creation
Wild Mother Suite
1.
A mother is woman most feral, wild
fangs burst forth when first with child
wings unfurl in labor, contractions,
metaphysical calculus: addition, subtraction
When babe has weaned the claws appear
ten mother’s shivs reach out, wipe tears
from cave to grave claws scratch direction
leave marks for breath and insurrection
The feathers, they were always there
but now distinguished from her hair
some black raven, some white owl
perfumed with wisdom of the fowl
At once a wolf a bear a bird
At first a circle a sac a sea
Mother original biosphere, wilderness, tree:
The children, they build forts in she,
make fairy houses in crannies
hang from limbs and rock in breeze
carve hearts, initials, whisper dreams.
2.
I was at a yuppie hippie gathering the other day when I overheard a woman say, “Some people have precious mothers. The mothers have been passed down from mother to daughter generation after generation. Some people have their great-grandmother’s mothers. They would do anything to protect them, and still, they have to keep severing them. If they don’t split the mother, it will die. They have to give portions of the mother away to keep it alive.” Of course, they were talking about sourdough, but I know you know what I know.
3.
Mother:
alma mater, dark matter
moibus strip
pitter patter
shape-shifter
white ink
artist, priestess, kitchen sink
mother with her brush in hand
pen, pencil, tambourine
mother with her canvas grand
mother in her mom jeans
mother with her arms outstretched
mother with her empty womb
mother with her canvas stretched
mother stretched and stitched and pruned
mother star in constellation, children stars narrate the story
mother lost in contemplation mother lost in allegory
mother wild like limbs in thunder
mother quiet like a breath
mother to the muse surrendered
mother, surrendered to herself.
The Legend of Sleeping Bear
Gaia and the Diaper
When I am mother
I am Mother Earth
thunderous size
thunder thighs
thunderous cries,
wailing abating
abetting
craven brazen
wet, wetting
lightning inciting
symbolic chaotic
extracting exacting.
A hidden order
murderous; comforting.
Red in tooth and claw.
My Mother said,
I never should
Play with the gypsies in the wood;
Soccer mom, ping pong
taxes late, lay them straight
ruptured cervix, anus stitched
female carnal lunchbox bitch
If I did, she would say,
You naughty girl to disobey.
Child of womb and teat
Did you brush your teeth?
layer of my layer upon layer
cosmic mater
underwater in utero pitter patter
The wood was dark, the grass was green
Along came Sally with a tambourine.
You shook, you stirred, the mountains roared
tectonic tightening crone maiden whore
push and push until the crowning
waves waves waving or down down drowning?
I went to sea – no ship to get across,
I paid ten shillings for a blind white horse.
It takes weeks for your eyes to see
far far away—far from me
I up on his back
And was off on a crack,
Elemental economy
my milk your meat
the teat, the teat, forever the teat
the raw and bloody numb nub treat
Sally tell my mother that I shan’t come back.
The withered cord: a boldfaced lie
no meat to measure distance by
does not separateness imply
Step on a crack,
Break your ma’s back
So you walk carefully here on in
conscious of unconscious sin
the invisible chrysalis sac you’re in
waves break
hearts break
water slakes but does not break
the sac, the cord, remain intact
no crack no crack could break ma’s back
Sacred trigonometry, mom jeans
the house to clean, scream scream scream
dirt abject amassed unseen
the pull the stench the night the dream
the blood the blood but always clean
the power the force the cum the cream
meconium marrow heart saline
at once divine, macabre, obscene
at once exquisite, average, mean
red in tooth and claw.
Flock
Paintings by Katie Hoogendam
About the Author
Katie Hoogendam is a writer, home/unschooling educator, artist and mother. Prior incarnations include radio host and high school teacher. Mothertongue, her limited-run chapbook, was released in 2018 and “Plan X,” her first play, debuted in the fall of 2019. Her work has appeared across a variety of publications in the U.S. and Canada.
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