Poems

Woman

When the air starts to cool
anticipating rainfall
I morph into leaf-green.
 
I am a burgeoning treasure,
under the earth.
 
I am the sky
that has swallowed up
salt from a mutinous sea.
 
I am a spell
that is both dream
and poison.
 
I am opposing
poles of a word,
sending its war cry
out into time.
 
Where could
I hide myself?

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