Three Worm Moon

Tunnel maker,
Secret keeper,
Flesh eater —
You who study
Earthbone contours.

What secret, sacred beast
Inhabits that soil,
Splits that seed,
Pulls that root,
Breathes that tide?

She rolls the rock
To reveal
The truth
The full
The living,
Oblivious to the chatter and hum —
The day-night-day
Heaving rhythm
Of the apelike mechanized

Let the music-makers
Sing peril to the wind.
Drum your fleshy foot
On cool wet earth
Let loose the hidden
And remember
Her hidden architecture,
Lest she choose to dance
At last.

Throw off the
Secondhand shackles.
Remember the ash
And dust.
Clap hands
And clasp them together
And again.

Quiet the engine.
Soften the tailbone.
Untie the strands
That bind heart and lung.
And listen –-


She is singing, too.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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