After a million rituals all that's left are the moon and the birds.
The mocking bird cuts the circle and the grackle calls us in.
We are all equal in the heat under the leaves.
Sweat is the wine of my life now.
Rot is my God and Fecundity my Goddess.
Alone here in a day heavy with cats
I catch your eye and prepare for the pain of rippening.
No comments:
Post a Comment