An Original Poem

Pretty Polly Hums and Longs*

for Bob

Last night I woke in a song
humming long,
swelling low in my bones.
Ridged and bare,
the floor spread beneath me,
knees scrubbed
sore in the earth,
dew-damp as early spring.
I couldn't hide
the moon, rein in the tides
breaking my spine
into single syllables of light.
Then, drawing ember and ash
through blood, I breathed
my woman's-magic into flame,
seared the sharp-silver night
with my tongue.


*The title is a line from the play Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas.