She speaks a various language.
Bound in the bardo bereft
vaguely present, almost dead.
For fucking shining aloud
let me
back in. Come again, sweet terror
Carve my shadow on your cave walls
Render me a soul, source me
mystify, crush, obscure me
in that deep gorge
confine, stretch, reveal me
Let me wobble
stand.
Continue reading “Slippery Package: A prayer poem by Isabella Ides”
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