The Poppy Queen

Intoxicated celebrants send moon-smiles streaming down my spine


High seat in the grasses

Maenads shake and blow their tresses


Rivers of serpents

Staccato delights

Honey amber crowns

Warm our nights

Warm our soon-to-be lusciously long chambered nights

Gorgon faces affright unsociable wights

Who wend their way with clumsy speech

Among the cypress

Between the poplar

Out of reach our golden nectar

Bathes the herms at the crossroads

That those who travel never lose their way


At close of day

Pomegranate juices slide down fingers long

Darkened by Helios’ zeal

Over figs and plums and olives


Like unfurled breasts

That tumble

Slap on skin

Of swollen mother’s belly

Muffled percussion to accompany

The pounding footfall of rhythm

As the heels stamp the fields

My melissae wield great power


To shower blessings upon the silent rocks

To shower blessings upon the lonely dales

To shower blessings upon the wooly flocks and tidy homes

Of men who greet us as onward we sail


On currents carried by Zephyr’s breath

Our merry rites


Save by those who long for death

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