12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

April 19

Demeter – early spring

along her arms
the knowledge creeps
bubbles with the waiting
ejaculates petal and birdsong
the cat in sudden heat warbles greeting
a crazy orchestra of homecoming
as her daughter pushes into
the kitchen like glaciermelt

demeter gathers the morain of her year
sweeps it to the corners
makes tea.


Persephone – late summer

on grass tinted tedium
she lies with her mother, umbrellaed by an elm
runs a finger through hot kitten fur
for the hundredth time
the nights are sweet, still,
with drunken sunsets
balmy and best spent with her man
she thinks
and sighs
the sound of wind through owl feathers
the kitten rolls off her
patpatpats at something
a leaf
the sound foreign
crisp, welcome
she opens an eye
catches the line of her mother’s gaze
the ravine between her eyes
the leaf is yellowed
a poem of want to her
a tender letter to her mother

Demeter – late autumn

smooth and bare
her daughter’s arms
raised to be picked up
wintered branches
that let through the lowered light
a beacon
she thinks
as though it could alay the frost

Persephone – winter

she keens forward
a wraith
running ahead of herself
for the line of poplars outside her gate
down the drive
her hound will be galloping
to greet her, then
later
the hearth
the dog’s large threefold head
in her lap
her back against her man’s knees
his hands in her hair

with love on both sides
she can never know the cold
field3

Tell me wotcha reckon

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