by Marga Laube
this angling cunning
feeds the beast
to keep him quiet
lest his call awake the shadows
of zeus’ discontent.
this frozen moment,
a terror right down the middle,
holds the breath in panicked understatement
as the swoop of wings descends,
this cliff, this buried place
shelters the beast and his endless covet
yet i will not leave these chains
the spoils of my defiance
i would still steal
pulled separately from grape popsicle memories
and fireflies in june
the most recent filament of the summer hue
is the sugared linger of your smile
and the afterglow of your essence
whispering through the folds in the wind
like daylight does at night-time.
i hold to hope as
a white heron in the snow –
and only the breath of god breathing me
through a winter of grief.
Funneled down through the science of nectar,
A sacred bee story goes awry.
Some people believe
that radiation from cell phones
confuses their natural logic
As we have harnessed a power
meant to be the pepper in the reduction
Now we feed the bees pepper cake
and scratch our heads at
Harmony and a dollar
don’t stop me from climbing
your brick and mortar word walls.
There I hang,
scaling your buildings
looking for entry
as the weighted scan of your prose
shakes me down for verdict –
“Let her in” or
“Ready, aim, fire” !
* * *
All poems by Marga Laube ©2008
Marga is an astrologer, poet, musician, and healer, though not necessarily in that order. This weekend she’s headed for L.A. for a training in a healing type of breathwork that she hopes to start using for her clients. Visit Marga at transformative-astrology.com.