April 19.
Women are roughly twice as prone to demon possession as men. — unknown source
The first true low tide of the year rolled a kelpy brine
scent through my house as I stood on my porch
crushing eggshells into vines that curl up the steps
maybe the island is sinking every time someone builds
another house here a man told me this it must be true
a young couple worried baffled at the forest gates
as he read printed instructions on how to change
a tire I demon laughed at him but I only know how
to hard boil an egg giving thanks to the chicken
I don’t actually hear what the eggs are saying
I only know how to resurrect a cake stitch a spell
into a sock change the strings on a violin or push
a child out of my body and set him free
my hair smells of wood smoke and salt
I have picked morels from the woods by the sea
if needs be cast me out if needs be
posted by Radish King at 8:02 AM
3 Comments:
I am swooning.
The islands, fragile soap bubbles, in the climate crisis , wasting more rapidly than the raspy Tetons that is a fact, Jack! Your delicate morel/kelp/rhody/mossy slice of heaven requesting gigantic water wings and NO MORE PEOPLE, please, will soothe you until it doesn't. Then , I guess- you must move to the raspy bits inland. I wish you waterwings larger than a nebula, the island needs you.
i stopped by the island dear, i stopped by of the evening dear, i stopped by the salted rim of the cup dear, and we sat down.
Post a Comment
<< Home