somewhere in my body was a remembrance. carbon with the faint contours of a spiral. a folk dance in the yellow of a swan egg. two seas meeting soundlessly in an atom. the fine details of it all. the wind fallen oak branch on the solstice fire knows. i tied a golden thread around it. the names vibrating in the spitting furnace.
A Name by Ada Limón When Eve walked among the animals and named them— nightingale, red-shouldered hawk, fiddler crab, fallow deer— I wonder if she ever wanted them to speak back, looked into their wide wonderful eyes and whispered, Name me, name me.
these seeping stones. this bright geology. cistvean of remembered self. a bronze that bades no contortion. words written in the blaze of june. hand stretched to articulate the light.
animism remembered
the lime of frog,
the secret kiss of bees.
grey shire mare like a dream
open your eyes to me
this lake is wider than before
and the aspen have cloned into forty thousand bells
older than the chapel, the dimly blurred faces of bison
upon the cavern wall
my nerves are on fire with the protons of a mountain hare
and the doves that sit astride my heart, weeping
the roots of reindeer ever downwards
to the font of the rivermouth. at last, at last.
i have been a little slow of late. deep in the belly of the year. the velvet flutter of the veil has held me quietly. a seed germinating. our first print edition of the winged moon, coming up on the lips of spring.
Lovely to imagine Eve naming animals 💖💖💖
So gorgeous! 🩶