Incendiary --

here, the times, unaware,

sharing what we have

to give, sticks

and rocks, dirt

and grass, branches broken

with hard will

for the incoming Spirits -- you

lay there, hands

on your eyes, counting

backwards

to your beginnings -- You sheltered

your hope

in a dense hedge, prickly

with thorns -- Why

will you wait

with circumspect Silence for me, I

who am lost

in the Creek, parting the

cold waters

with clenched fist

and submerged intent? -- these

are the Nights

filled with Compromise, meting

out Justice to

the misinformed and malcontent -- Sudden,

gnawing

pains grip our sides, we

are here conjoined

with our

sisters, Searching

out

the Signs of our struggles

to recoil

before the Snake

and pass blindly through the caves; We

who have loved

and forgotten are here

to throw

our insolent longings on the fire, there

burning

mute pieties and hallowed

ghosts -- You

would

give me the foxglove, the daisy, as

I would

wrap the Ceremonial flags

in the

tree branch

for the Ancients to see -- this Summer

is a Whirlwind

of minute instances

pasted together by deft hands

and surgically

bolstered by bloodlines

and Circumstance -- How

would you Stomach it all, Now

that the Sun has

burst, would you

burn in her rays or seek Solace

in quiet

communion

with yourself? -- the leaves

are scattered, the

water's surface calm now

like a knife, the

handheld

minutes falling away, there,

where we can

paint

our shadows on the wall,

artifacts

of

an enchanted embrace

uncovered --

*