A
freshwater person living uphill from a city of saltwater
people recalls a child's sunburnt skin peeling like
a Neolithic
frieze, "whether we know its meaning or not."
Passed
a sharp turn and continued straight ahead, stepping
over long arms of ancient roots, until I found
I'm walking in
a dry stream bed
|
|
carved
by floods morphed into sand flecked with leaves of
desaturating
degrees of color: these paths walked
with a
shaman, rattling “one
spirit
within another.”
Awoke
then, to when prayers were sung with pollen flying up
the nose;
with "his bird sneeze in one
hand / And his death-chill in the other." |