Seren Divine
Seren DivineSou MacMillan lives in Worcester, MA with her husband, Bill, their son, Liberty, and a pair of cats. She obtained her B.A. in Russian Literature from Ohio State University in 1992, has spent time on the road, married for love, and hopes with no small frequency that if she follows her heart, her bank account will follow. Ex-rockstar and small press goddess, she shamelessly reads Martha Stewart's Living, much to everyone's amusement.
Sou was a member of the 2000 Worcester Slam Team, which competed in the National Poetry Slam in Providence, RI. Sou hosts the Monday night poetry events at the Java Hut in Worcester, MA.
Three samples of the poet's work (including an audio):
(Make sure your browser window is opened wide enough—Sou
likes to write outside the margins. :)
day 14
You -
wish discovered
so wanted
arrived finally & blush of new
wide round eyes
raku-glazed, maybe brown,
bright, indescribably bright
eyes, closed &
dreaming in 2 weeks of lashes
2 weeks ago
you were a ripple in my belly
rocking yourself to sleep
in my hips as
winter refused
remained mild
a peach-sized bump that
shifted across my middle
& midnight hiccoughs
made of chicken & orange juice &
spinach & half-cups of coffee
sudden change every day for nine months
and then some
handsome amazement, our son
now finished on the inside, outside 9 lb of incomplete
all full of life waiting for
thriving & discovering
memorizing of faces
mastery of language
note of landscape
Tiny Birdie - feathers still wet of egg
the time of bread &
bloodletting is
now - this is
space for sustenance &
grow
sleep & eat & see &
sleep some more
space for Celebrate & soft
for Daddy's hands &
Mommy's breast
for clothes to be washed
before wear
in gentle detergents
not even soap
on your skin yet
Shhhh....
this hour
the nursery is the land
of Nod
you in crib
cat on changing table, cat in chair
only the stuffed toys have eyes open
keeping watch with merry wonder
eyes aglitter for snow & solitude
sustenance is warm &
whole milk
yesterday's X-mas cookies
pale blue & pink & skin to skin
strong arms
purr & grey fur
well-wishers peeking
& incense
the 59th Street Bridge Song
-I'm dappled & drowsy & ready to sleep-
Shhhhhh...
week 3
in the hull of my being
things are not as i remembered them
cat emulates Baby's cry
kitchen resembles a war zone
bassinet is a small blue boat
adrift in a sea of
books & bedspread &
unread mail
sleepwalking is essential
4am is unlike any other
hour
the house
requires gentleness & round things
to even its keel, send us southerly into dawn with
the smallest belly full & drifting to slumber
arms must
rock gently
fingers
find our son's mouth to meet
breast in the half light from the kitchen
the furnace blows warm
sends things rustling to sound like
pins of snow on the windowpane
& yet we are safe
nestled
slight of eye &
semi-conscious
thankfully
this is a winter of peacetime
devil take the gas bill,
this house will be warm
run the space heater
cook liberally of things that require steamy pots
wash hands under hot water
so as not to shock soft skin &
wake us all
it is odd familiarity to hear neighbors' footfalls
above us in steady rhythm
across floorboards &
wonder who has struck land
at this hour
this flood
is welcomed smooth waves
we 3 clinging together
breathing in tandem
sharing our bed as the daylight creeps in too
all thirsts are assuaged in the inky blue that keeps
us
there is sweet milk in the water
& tiny mouth to drink the ocean
whole.
Liberty by Candlelight
There will be days like this
when i am the drum
that keeps pounding
beating out a tempo
erratic as i am measured
prone & unnoticed as a heartbeat
banging banging banging
head against floor
need against wall
soul against my own skin
swaying with your call
sleep
please sleep a little while
soft against my chest
rockingchair desklamp cradle
& cat
carpet & crib &
rat-a-tat-tat
armies of paper men marching
in my ears
it is all so much blood
for the drum
i am
a little sleep (sleep)
a little sleep (sleep)
this house is settling around us
shhhhhh
while my womb is forgetting the rhythm of labour
this is hard work
you are new a long time now
you are always new
and sleep is like forgetting
like turning the lights out in every room
to fight it is right
is nightlight ceilingfan stuffed bear & swing
is shiny & spinny, daddy rock mommy sing
softly
a little sleep (sleep)
a little sleep (sleep)
i am the mommydrum
i am moving beating correct monotony
imperfect for any melody
backbeat to a lullaby
i only know the first verse so i sing it twice &
over
over
over ever conscious of
your breathing
a little sleep (breathe)
a little sleep (breathe)
shh-shh-shh-shh
blackbird singing in the dead of night
1:00 is the rocking hour
is the time of motion
makes more better
is the space between
sighs
is the yawning gap
between feeding and my eyes drifting
is the purposeful
dull throb behind my forehead
my toes on the carpet in time to your breath on my neck
i am made of skin
& hammers
i am strung as tight as a piano
and i remember as much vocabulary as such
i speak english with a shh-shh-stutter
i am quiet as a snowfall
can you shh-shh-hear me
i am shh-shh-beating
can you shh-shh-hear me
over all
the noise
a thousand trumpets compete with a thousand hearts of Mary
in the nursery tonight
this is a symphony of cat
wails &
the audience is struck dumb
amazed at the volume of the mommydrum
i am loud as a mirror on a blank wall
i am as fierce as fire and just as forceful
i am the mommydrum in a house full of visitors known only by the thunder
above us &
i have had to learn to walk gently to become this
drum
this drum
pumps blood on command
pushes toes to rock in
halflight
banging banging banging
a little sleep/beat
a little sleep/beat
can you shh-shh-hear me?
can you shh-shh-hear me?
i am drum of this breakneck midnight score
beat my skin and i
will sweat milk
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