by Rose Maria Woodson
Wound upon wound.
Ginko leaves fall together.
A hymn of stems.
Only in unison is the tree
protected. What is left standing
is worth the fall.
Moonshine.
Nightshine.
When maize & barley
shimmy with water.
High spirits slake
throat & heart.
Cull hope from husks. You
know why it’s illegal.
What sings to you?
What kisses you,
closes your eyes, opens
your mouth,
plunges you, otherwise,
into the well of your soul?
Image by Leopictures from Pixabay
Rose Maria Woodson’s latest fiction, “I Worked For A Witch,” appears in Bellingham Review. Her poetry has been nominated for both the Pushcart and Best of the Net. Her poems appear in Revolute, Worcester Review, Cider Press Review, Rappahannock Review, Folio Literary Journal, Comstock Review and Pedestal Magazine, among others. Her fiction appears in Oyez Review, Glint Literary Journal, and Litro Magazine. She is the author of two chapbooks, Skin Gin, 2018 Winner of Quillsedge Chapbook Competition and An Ombre Of Absence, published by Dancing Girl Press, as well as the mini-chapbook, Dear Alfredo (Pen and Anvil). She holds an MA in Creative Writing from Northwestern University.
“Cull hope from husks…” Just stunning! Thank you, Rose Maria Woodson, for the gift of your words. – Mary Alice Dixon