Thursday, February 25, 2010

St. Walpurga (patron of those who have rabies)

the dawn runs its tongue

along the back of my neck,

melts it like sugar, licks the sweat

off of my body as if it were


tell the story to the corn wound

tight like a dainty waist. it listens.

grain mother,

help those whose mouths are full of

foam, as if the ocean is leaping up

and out.

this is the end of winter. burn those

who curl their chapped lips

around the dawn.

give us oil from stone.

we are pilgrims,

fires full of stars.

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