by L.G. Corey
Light the fire with your finger.
Light the fire with your tongue.
Spread their ashes on the altar.
- There is magic in their planting,
omens in their dust,
and a whiff of sulphur
on their breath.
As I’ve said so many times before,
Time, at the speed of light, stands still.
Do you remember?
Anything at all?
Have you forgotten
the quick lick of words on your lips
and the stiff tongue
that reamed the omens from your navel,
- disturbed your breath
and set the sulphur burning
on your altar
at the speed of light?
of what was once forgotten
in the dust of hares and tortoises.
- The race is over, but never won;
the race is neither ended nor begun.
[Featured]Digital Art Image Credit: Botanical Hairstyle by Barbara Ruth. ©Copyright 2015, Barbara Ruth.
Snapping Twig – Summer – 2015
Vol: May 2015 thru Jul 2015