the weight of your saffron-ivory sorrow
upon women's bones made dense by the fire & ice of the turning
flight is made difficult by the threads of compassion's justice
counter-balance to the tendered taste of
sprouting earth & azure sky burning
structure footed in the quartz of days
rooted to the voice of you
omnipotent gods busy with hypocrisy & darkness
can't but fail to notice the buzzing of
springs reluctance to come
and
show herself raw & willing to
rise
and open once again . . .
