…and sometimes I allow myself a little vanity. Especially when I muse forth such gorgeous poetry, which I accept as a cherished review. Here is an untitled poem, written by a dear reader and patron, who here goes by “Marginal Graffiti”
Naked, she stands before, joyous
Persephone emerging from the damp underground caverns,
Berry-stained hair catching sunlight,
Around her neck hangs the jewel of a pomegranate seed.
She flashes an inquisitive smile
To transfix the unsuspecting but expecting.
I am the air after the lightning bolt,
The flint after the spark has been struck,
The water’s surface after the slice of the oar,
Black earth pierced by the straining seedling.
I respond to her enlivening disturbance.
All my atoms vibrate faster, align to growth,
My blood sings as
She coaxes the Yes from me,
The first drips of its honey become a tumbling stream.
In a while, we’ve forgotten to dance,
Except in the courante of words tossed to each other, of sparkling eyes,
Spring now concentrated in such little space.
Come Lammas I’ll offer her the first fruits,
And draw myself up to full height to receive her embrace proudly.
