11/11, poetry by Mhairi Campbell at Spillwords.com



written by: Mhairi Campbell


I breathe and kneel
at the foot of myself
Withering drips of autumn
alight the air and fall
as leaves on my mother’s swollen front

I am there within the red
beating blood and I am here
on the gravel worn by tires
On my back wings bleeding from that fall
so steep from the sky of my before

I am spread naked from birth
the stones bearing my fragile weight
I am the wind that teases winter
from the bark
It is 11/11 and the number signals
my joining
Skin to grow around the first feather
and to succumb to the autumn grass
To learn to perish like the bud withering
shivering on that metal ground

For what is more divine than learning
in that fall to die?

We are both sipping coffee in the hub
of our words
Falling in love with the dead oak
of the table and in one another’s eyes
Moles of winter have snared my wings
but yes, in this cup and in your smile
I have relearned how to fly

I am here splayed on the ground
I am there in my mother on 11/11
And I am everywhere when I
alight the autumn air
one final time
Be mine, be mine

Latest posts by Mhairi Campbell (see all)
  • 11/11 - November 25, 2022