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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Early Poem

Submitted: June 16, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 16, 2018





By Alexander Guinevere Kern

Copyright, 1987




I wish to your sacrifice

I could come Vestal.

(But Estrus wracks my womb

My tender tissues.)

Barefoot on gold leaves

Dressed diaphanous,

Singular and shining as the Sun's

Extravagant eye.

Crescent of roses and baby's breath

'Twined through my braids.

Lips of Light, intact sacrament,

Your first in the ritual ruin

Of the Maidenhead.

Flowers of Fertility,

Blood red roses, blood on blood.




Instead you receive a Welsh Druid,

Who's written her wicked dance

Feverishly with Satyr

After Horned God, after Rogue, after Rake.

Sweltered tangles of russet hair

Oiled brown shoulders.

(I have warm hands of knowledge,

I bear no roses, painless, perfect.)


We shall leave behind

Swirls of footprints like

Impressionist flowers in the peaty

Brine of Autumn's leaf fall,

For strangers and lovers

Journeying this forest

To pause, inspect and wonder.

The Wise wood creatures passing.

Love! Love, the glory and the power,

Recognizing the pattern of passion.


I am the Exiled Moon, a threshold,

Beyond me wait legions of women

Ardent stars, constellations of fire.


I am every satyr's woman,

End your long siege of Purity, Pilgrim,

In my wise, insistent valley.

Altar, Oaths, Vows, Virginity:

All require Blood Sacrifice,

A Relinquishing of the dearly

Treasured for a Deity, Deliverance

or Desire.


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