What is your name,
Your deep name that called to mine
Glowing vermilion? Tiny
Ten toes, cleft fingers
Flung in startle reflex.
But when I pick you up
You stink! Reeking
Of faeces, a honeypot
For flies to carry your spores
Airborne from the volva, then
Burst open as a hollow shoot
In the ground. The cycle begins
each Advent, growing
Star-shaped, blood and guts
Of the earth’s startled cry
To be picked up in its smell
Of fear.
I name you
Little Star
And lay you in the bed
Of Mary’s garden
Beside a pink geranium
For safekeeping
While I wait
To hear my name.
©Julie Thorpe
Image star pink geranium, wikipedia
Follow us: