red stone
her thoughts like carbuncle
burn
coal twisting on the hearth.
burn
coal twisting on the hearth.
a candle's death
in its brass holder
the candle flame
throbs and sighs
dipping beneath the rim
flaring
like a cry.
in a moment
the light turns blue
leaps sharply
dances
and dies.
the candle flame
throbs and sighs
dipping beneath the rim
flaring
like a cry.
in a moment
the light turns blue
leaps sharply
dances
and dies.
sometime in the night
the rain began sometime in the night
long after i had feathered
the rosary beads
across my fingers
and drifted into a sleep
mercy would guard from dreams.
i woke
muffled guns in the jungle
lightning
pulling back the curtain of sleep.
long after i had feathered
the rosary beads
across my fingers
and drifted into a sleep
mercy would guard from dreams.
i woke
muffled guns in the jungle
lightning
pulling back the curtain of sleep.
Emily Hart has appeared in publications such as Denali,
Womyn's Press, Groundwaters, Fireweed, A Room Of One's Own and others
under various pens. Currently she lives in Southern Oregon gleaning
inspiration while weeding star thistles.
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