Spider Tree
In front of orange lamp, in front of night
All is wet and dangerous
Like stumbling into a coven, as the Virgin Mary
Spider Tree
Yellow rain lurches down
The sky is arguing with the shadow behind the lamp; which is emptier?
The Sidhe ride, and Mary prays.
Spider Tree
Forges an alliance with lucid, limpid leaves
They hang and pant and teeter,
Tenuous tribes, hermetic heathens, all of them.
Mary is wiping the tree roots with her hair
Spider Tree
‘s black base outshines orange lamp; it is intricate
and perplexing, (a Turkish rug, or a magic carpet)
the dead retreat, when
Jesus comes to tuck Mary into bed
The rain goes on, and Jesus listens
Spider Tree is singing.
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