Also published on Flowers of Sulfur
In despair and sunless
In despair and sunless
summer heat
think on dry
dark places
In Egypt, infinite
Sapphics hidden
below concrete and clay:
words written in a
language you would not know
by a woman who drank
from cups of wind
Above all spits
the very sun
that shone on her shoulders
that parches your throat
that does not reach
those fragments of verse
that even now
are singing into the
ribcage of the earth
4 comments:
Oh that's beautiful, you; especially the last stanza
'those fragments of verse
that even now
are singing into the
ribcage of the earth'
thank you
This has a hefty serving of the spiritual, in the sense of old religion. The ending spurs the pulse to race to the beat of chants and barefoot dancing drum-loud enough to wake the gods. :)
Thank you, S.L.
Sappho on the brain!
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