Author Information
May Day
I wish that I could spend every
sunny Sunday watching
a siren turning and swinging
her heathen hula hoop hips in a
state of private exaltation.
The peacock feather earrings
lost in her curly fawn hair
reverberate with the music.
A Goddess born from the Earth
who wears the world
around her hips causing
the seasons and the tides
that turn. The moon stays
tied just for her and the fires
she burns.
Lost in her private melody
she smiles and moves her
limbs fluidly in time
inviting the room to worship.
Finally my head begins to throb
punishment for staring directly
into the sun
The Goddess has reawoken.
