The milk and wine: One in each arm — maternal and sacramental at once. She climbs a knife-edged track to bring both the earthly and the divine, and he is already salt. I love how pious here doesn't mean meek, it means stubborn.
This had me hooked at 'taste the wave in his mouth.' And it kept riding the metaphor and deepening it. It's challenging to write about the ocean in new and refreshing ways. This poem reminds me it can still be done. Another poem that I could go on and on and on about
The milk and wine: One in each arm — maternal and sacramental at once. She climbs a knife-edged track to bring both the earthly and the divine, and he is already salt. I love how pious here doesn't mean meek, it means stubborn.
Gorgeous raw sensual poem.
This had me hooked at 'taste the wave in his mouth.' And it kept riding the metaphor and deepening it. It's challenging to write about the ocean in new and refreshing ways. This poem reminds me it can still be done. Another poem that I could go on and on and on about
. . .and I seriously cannot get this poem out of my head. I just ordered the book