Florence has warm blood
and cowrie teeth that seldom clatter,
even in the chilled, fluttering dance of July rain.
She’s an element of Shiloh
in weeping quest of a promising Samuel,
and for this,
walks through long and clammy paths in July rain.
July, a month of sacred yams,
with breast tubers and milk tendrils,
befriends Florence,
an eloquent lamenter,
the quintessence of languor,
this day of...
Continue reading...