art
by Bernard Picart
|
solstice
stood watching
turning
wheels
rolling
stones
down
again
Sisyphus,
you
are
a
mountain dark
a
slow amble caprice
a
steep angle leaned
you
are
cloven-hoofed
sure-footed
a
horned reprieve
thinning
oxygen
for
just causes
blessed
is your day
so
short stabbed
that
its little arms
out
the window
are
a cemetery
saying
this
day
looks
at all
the
footprints
tided
time
can
remember
all the things
souls pray for
anyway they can
whether
aware
of each limb's
ritual
or not
a holly
king
or oak king
high
and holy
a christmas
wish
kiss
nested
to yule fire
or
other twists
at
the end
of
a year's braid
of what
ties us
to that witch
we pray for
during the night
long
enough
to
begin stealing light
into
wombs again
EJR
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