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Demeter, Cleaning House

I lean into my broom and stare out the window,
watch the setting sun’s slow, honeyed
rhythm. When she labors, who will loosen
her braid? Who will speak the words

to smooth the knot in her brow? Worn down with worry,
I wonder, When did I become so like them
those sad women hollowed out.
Who will light the myrhh, wormwood and garlic
to soften the womb’s mouth? My view,
unbroken, I remember the field of poppies
gone to seed and bleeding. I see, now, these
dark openings. How each flower
is a reckoning, a possibility. All the ways
this world designed to take her from me.

       — Sarah McKinstry Brown

 
This Bright Darkness
Sarah Mckinstry-Brown
Paperback | Jan 2019
in store $16.10

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