Catch the Rawness, poem

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— of a world preparing for war,

collecting hate as rain forms a pool

in the slightest depression of slickrock.


Invite the world in.

Grasp the world’s fear

roll it in your hand

until the edges smooth,

then return to the world

that which comforts any hand,

a blue gray river stone.


Take the poison, chew it

like the Inuit woman chews seal skin.

Chewing takes time, a winter undertaking.

We have plenty of darkness.




Catch the rawness and place it next to your heart

in the pocket you have sewn just for this purpose.