One More Pantoum

These are hailing from my poetry class. This author wishes to remain anonymous.

the grass blade bent under its own weight
its root its center point so when
the wind moved it, it turned
and traced a circle in the sand

its root its center point so when
you pulled me I couldn’t move
and traced a circle in the sand
traced it deosil three times

you pulled me I couldn’t move
a magic circle, drawn from chalk or fear or strength
traced it deosil three times
only by summoning ourselves

a magic circle, drawn from chalk or fear or strength
geomancer on the deer track
but only by summoning ourselves
there was something off about Pythagoras

geomancer on the deer track
red sap on the aspens like crystalline bleeding
there was something off about Pythagoras
but still we take measure of the earth

red sap on the aspens like crystalline bleeding
facing sunward,smooth side hidden
but still we take measure of the earth
and find it lacking, without reference

facing sunward,smooth side hidden
facets shifting into vision
and find it lacking, without reference
the space displaced inside this teacup

facets shifting into vision
heat melts horizons over deserts
the space displaced inside this teacup
just not enough for both of us

heat melts horizons over deserts
the wind moved it, it turned
just not enough for both of us
the grass blade bent under its own weight

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About Miriam Sagan

I'm blogging about poetry, land art, haiku, women artists, road trips, and Baba Yaga at Miriam's Well (https://miriamswell.wordpress.com). The well is ALWAYS looking to publish poetry on our themes, sudden fiction, and guest bloggers and musers.

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