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Today’s prompt was to write a georgic poem. Stuck for inspiration I listened to this before writing.


back down here again
back against   the sun and rain
which sold me to a better self;
all I brought along

were my summer clothes
& my last thoughts of you
turning blue against the sky
agent of forever   as you are

like a hysterical sea   of rapeseed
like a flame     at the malachite pines

like the grieving swifts after the scythe
halts its swoop     like the lick
of fire at the end-year’s crop

like the soil    boiled and silent
in the roosting light

like the October moon
sober in   its wrong room
of morning

in this space of all and nothing I hand
over one breast
a lungful of breath   & the best
of my second glances

three ribs & a womb
for rent

you give nothing and I take it
to be political, as a thief   who would steal
my shadow but for the fact he has already
robbed me of sun


Picture credit: Mustafa Tank Canby available here




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