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Moon Muldrow

Aquiline

Updated: 3 days ago

Oh my darling, child of autumn, dance with me in wooden shoes


Along the edge of what once was and what soon could be


See you in my prayers


In the limn of sunlight behind a gleaming statue


The voice of a silver cross told me I was no saint


But tell me, beloved, when your hands are coated in blood


What difference does it make if it is your own or someone else’s?


Oh dusk-lit child, drape yourself in the red-brown-gray of a winter twilight


Gild your hair in copper


And teach me that fire and light are one and the same


Won’t you twirl with me between what is known and what should be forgotten


And catch me when I fall to either side


Hear my hymns


From the edge of the forest where the small things scurryand the shadows walk


And sing my refrain in a silence born of snow


My darling unholy child


Won’t you teach me what it is to be sacred



By Moon Muldrow

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