The
Feminine Misaligned & Maligned
Goddess
Himalaya
The
Evening Rose she held up nights
taking
flight she who was
Eve & Seven Daughters. Her Garden
of Eden grew thorns on roses after
fig leaf wiles, lies
Thornless
were Generous Gardener
Lady
of Shallot, Amber Queen
Reviled
rose-hearts grew stem-daggers
to Ring a Ring a Roses, to ward
off all falls
from grace & those misnamed whore
but still
Mary Magdalene, Apostle of Apostles
ascended
from so called fouled apples
that
never were — Clitoris-hearts broke
&
apple dimples of roses turned into tear drop
drips like Fallopian
Buds, Fringed Bleeding Heart
Squirrel Corn. Now we Roses rise to resurrect
winging among Bind Weed, Loosestrife, Cattails
Metamorphosis
of all that is
Aphrodite,
African Queen’s. Feminine
wildfire
petals open
never bow heads in an Esperanto
of Roses. Untamed Rose-Valentina
She-Flowers need no trellis to hold up
the sky
First Lady of Flowers
A
Rose is anything
but
humble, as if, A Rose by any other
name
would smell so sweet, said Juliette
of Romeo. Rabbie
Burns’ Love was, Like a red red
rose
Did Rossetti agree
with
Avon’s Bard? Of all the flowers
me
thinks a rose is best, as he poured
Attar
of
Roses on Venus
Verticordia, La Ghirlandata
Lady Lilith. Anointed
pulse points like Margaret MacDonald
MacKintosh’s
The
Three Perfumes
The End is Another Beginning
after, I Found a Funeral in My Brain
— Emily Dickinson
And then I heard them lift
a box yoked on shoulders,
stooped with pails, knees akimbo. Elbowed through on willow’s throne into
sacred fire’s furnace. Released from this bone-cocoon I flit about light as
thistledown with no caveat. Flicked a fringe from someone’s eye, straightened
distant cousin’s black bow tie. In front row’s pew, swiped a tissue
under close-kin’s nostril-faucet. Whispered in ears, I am here, more
alive than ever there. Patted backs of purple haired rubberneckers,
homeless teen looking for crumbs of shortbread-comfort & no need of
confessionals. Slipped three gold coins into his hip pocket. Awoke to choices
of ascension accelerator in eyrie, bluebell grove, long boat pyre?
Sea anemones
Honour guard of bowhead whale
Escort through this veil?
Song-Stitch in Time
a Found poem of titles in, Weaving
Songs
—
Donald
S. Murray
Weaving-woven star
woven-weaving seasons weaving-woven song travellers woven-weaving
song weaving-woven spells for the woven-weaving father of the weaving-woven bride a dear woven-weaving child
weaving-woven myths & legends in a woven-weaving love
letter in a book of weaving-woven prose woven-weaving tales
of weaving-woven spirits woven-weaving shearing
woven-weaving threads weaving-woven weft & lap work
of the woven-weaving mill weaving-woven fulling
tweed woven-weaving wool waulking songs woven-weaving
this island weaving-woven ghost a woven-weaving
stone weaving-woven in bone woven-weaving weaving-woven
Yang-Fur
is Not Yin-Fur
Along
River Foyle
& Prehen Wood
they
preambled
leash-less
with Sam
His snout a
truffle-snuffle
of bluebells
celandine
wood anemone
Argonaut
fleece
a longshore
drift
versus
trunk of
beech
ash, birch
as red
squirrel
long-eared owl
& sparrow hawk
looked
askance at
cock-a-leekie
& Atlantic
salmon
leapfrogged
tickled trout
Afterwards
healing
hands
morphed
Sam’s
floods
into
squirt-bursts
but fetid
& fouled
rugs
remain
permafrost
with nasal
polyps &
prostrate
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