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Southern Spaces
A journal about real and imagined spaces and places of the US South and their global connections

Two-thirds of earth, and most of us, is water.
Come life, come death's black, fathomless water.

At the mirror I try to picture the soul.
I raise my cupped hands, full of water.

And think of my birth: the scalpel, my mother’s
skin parting like a sea of red water.

In the dream of the flood I'm always the one
looking back, turning into a pillar of water.

I drag a stick through my reflection: there lies
another, whose name is written in water.


Published in Chattahoochee (Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 2004).

Published: 14 April 2009

© 2009 Patrick Phillips and Southern Spaces