Friday, January 17, 2020

Mother Mary Christ Of The Earth

When the bulb sings
awakening the tired planet
I will be held in your womb,
I will be a tomb reaching
to resurrection,
and the stars
darkening a saw blade
will cry out.

Slabs of gravity hacked
and re-rooted in time
the flashing organisms
to find my veins
brothers and sisters saved
by rings of vapor
sleek floating ships
and beds of departing soil
wrapped in cellophane rags

how I remember the gift inhaled
night spread over fields
with light of day to come
dark slug in a potted skull.

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