Wednesday, September 1, 2010

St. Giles (patron of beggars, cancer patients, fear of night, horses, epilepsy, & outcasts)


she was never a queen

or a fairy, she was always

a king or a giant or a

woman who could

lasso the sun

and split it in two.

the yolk would drip

over fenceposts

along the horizon.


you could sail a ship

on her fat tears.

her hands are

as rough as a riptide.

the goldenrod will never

stop making her sneeze.


lead her to the forest.

she will lie down

with the deer.

she will be wounded

by someone else’s arrow.

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