a descent into poetry insanity |
| a picture haunts me, standing stones frozen in the middle of a story— a woman in long skirts crowned by a jug of water caught by the light of the waxing moon— the breath of a jealous goddess. I dream her— improbable scenes dancing in my head and I know— somewhere, her myth echoes on the beat of a drum just beyond my understanding. daybreak. with empty jars crowning their heads women walk for water— swaying, gliding, following a drumbeat I don’t know. Author's Note ▶︎ |