~understanding calendar fog

from the root

there yields nothing more holy

than the body that

flowers 

breath of small voices

     throats of birds 

thunder brings benediction 

from the hands of

god himself 

.

a blue poem disorients

its naked knowing

slips beneath the skin

     burrows mole-like

     into bones 

mines salt from

deep caves of eyes 

shadows lay on a pale

     breast of moon 

.

sky smokes without apology

     a red spark

the ceaseless settling of ash 

brunette forest full of things

forgotten 

     battered leaves

     become tinder

burn brief, struck match

somewhere is

     a fire 

.

all is dark

in a shuttered house

      fevered with pity 

button the sorrow

between bodies

late hours comfort

     those held prisoner

by the wolves and coyotes

surviving an ivory plain 

.

pour pomegranate from the

chest

remove seeds from ribs

and plant them six feet

below the surface of earth

this is the undertaking of

a vulture who steals the flesh

.

trees are still tonight. crickets

gossip of fireflies dancing drunk

in a lazy meadow. starfish light

the closest sky; clouds spread like

driftwood to sand. I can barely

explain the way this breeze spills

notes of flutes and chimes, as if

wind writes music from the bluebells

in my garden.

©  lori hamilton

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