Poem of the Week
Prayer From The Backyard
When the moon is out,
say a little prayer and let your lips move
like soft fruits,
let some witches fly
with tilted hats from
under your chin
and let the saints pour beer.
Say to the moon what you desire:
Deep beds and generous wallets.
Say to the moon who you are:
An embedded soul,
a wishful slug so hungry.
Put your hands together like a dishrack
and say these things.
Watch the trees bend down to you,
watch the stars open their mouths in song.
Watch the nightbirds lend an open ear
and cry a little death if you need.
Plant seeds under your feet and
go back to the house-
that big sleepy bosom
with warm lights
calling you in.
- Wednesday, July 21, 2004 poem of the week archives