and she, already, refusing to kneel

[lemorttoussaint]

"Book One" Anne Maria Macari

Light was being, held by her own hands or
touched like water burning bare skin.
In the beginning meant learning to see:  a thousand
kinds of green, the vine-crawl along rocks,
the groping mouths of flowers.  In the beginning
all they knew was yes, so when the first no
settled quietly around the tree
they thought it birdsong, it

Comments

[lemorttoussaint]

I know. I'm going to have to look up more of her poetry, because wow.