March 7, 2012

poem 70 of a poem a day for 2012


Diana and her many breasts 

She is night
Mother of Ephesus
dancing with Her 
scant bow 
of clouds
pearling all
She waxes
near full  
knows Jupiter 
has chased for
Venus with Mars 
in hot pursuit
towing the spill 
trail from here 
to there
and here 
again too
and that we
can suckle-taste 
which rhythms 
vine our silver to gold 
and back along
to how they
place kisses
in lace along her spine
how their fingers traced
the mandalas of 
their eyes in
each arch
each shine
each moan 
that says
we must
write everything 
in stone
as the wind
can still get in
enough to carve  
all these thoughts
we have of Her
so very near 
to how She
says let go
to stay
so close
to the beat
murmur
of Her heart
Divine with
milk and 
honey veils
removed
one at
a time

EJR (c)

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