What next, she wonders,with the angel disappearing, and her roomsuddenly gone dark.The loneliness of her newspossesses her. She pondershow to tell her mother.Still, the secret at her heart burns likea sun rising. How to hold it in—that which cannot be contained.She nestles into herself, half-convincedit was some kind of good dream,she its visionary.But then, part dazzled, part prescient—she hugs her body, a pod with a seedthat will split her.
Luci Shaw, from Bellingham, Washington, is the author of numerous collections of poetry, including Harvesting Fog (Pinyon) and The Slow Pleasures (forthcoming from WordFarm).
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