The Highest Botanical
by Abel Siemens
I lost my mother to the Persian Gulf.
A wave so high you could eat
The fanning waves as they surrounded you.
The ocean choked her to death.
She was pathetic and beautiful. Her feet had deep roots,
Each cell a meadow and each toe a lark.
In the Persian Gulf there was also
A white-breasted raven, with dark blue wings:
Crowded night wave, engorged abyss full of the dialectic.
Underneath the waves, it would
Part itself, its beak
Opening up to inhale the toxic,
Flowery, ornate fumes of the salt
And minerals. The raven was alive
During my childhood.
One day it flew up out of the waves
And explained all the minors and readings of life.
She gave me an essay on botany, and she called it,
And in it was a dedication,
“To my deceased mother, whom I miss very much”.
Abel Siemens is an undergraduate student currently enrolled at North Idaho College, studying literature and philosophy. In the past, he has been accepted to speak at the Northwest Humanities Conference, which took place on the campus of North Idaho College. His work has been published before in the GNU Literary Journal.