The Fortunate Era
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Valentine
Back then, for all I cared, God could have been a spider Glossy as a buttercup Sunning in the garden Of the first woman Time gave me to And then took back. What I mean is, once, like ice, Something pierced my heart With a light So fierce It heightened Every thin-stemmed flower after. That’s how I think of God now, Each time-- Going back to her-- That immense and holy cold, an arrow Sinking in. |