February 10, 2012

poem 41 of a poem a day for 2012



at witching hour

turn my wheel 
wise vine curl 
your Lupercalian rise
finds souls inside

know worn skin
is only begin
that warm rain
was never sin

Winter demands gifts
that every womb
we ring burning
for a way 

into what memory
does to smell
to understand infinity
to understand today

EJR(c)

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