Little White Lie
Mother has sewn a white lie into the
hem of my breast pocket, a finishing
method for a voodoo doll boy folded
narrowly. The white lie will grow in my
pocket as an egg, my blood will be an
incubator, my marrow will be fed
to the bones of her dead son made in me,
a little ivory lie that scatters
into the fledging feathers of a goose.
The goose will merge out of my back giving
me the appearance of having angel
wings, the goose’s beak pecks my cartilage.
This piece of cloth is sewn to prevent the
unravelling of mother’s fabric heart.
Grant Tarbard is internationally published. His collection As I Was Pulled Under the Earth, published by Lapwing Publications, is available now.