the core
the mantle
she sheds
like menstrual blood
a fire
she dreams
as we sing
prick your finger on the needle
and read the drops of blood
she dreams
a blue mantle
a green one and red with gold
roses
thick and gentle
her eyes lift
licking the snow
look today frozen morning
she is turning
turning
turning
inwards
spiral
down
and won't stop
wound gently spring
will come
and she
will turn again
laughing
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