Fuck a god who only
comes twice. Give me a goddess,
a real one
who rises every spring,
looking forward,
always,
to going down
when Autumn takes those
burning scarlet leaves,
cranberries ripening
in the clear wet mucky bogs,
pomegranates heavy globes
greedily dangling
against that thick trunk rising
into the sky, bursting dark
green in the soft twilight air,
suspended in honeyed anticipation,
receiving everything on offer,
moon and stars ravenously
gorging themselves on
magic
Orgies of sensation
exploding everywhere into everything,
delicious sounds, deafening scent
of eyes weaving a tapestry that feeds
crushed violets in the rain, singing them sweetly awake to be devoured in dreams.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
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