In holied awe, let my body under
you, become brave hands— to hold you warm, gloved sound; and feet slight— fleet and unencumbered.
You are safe here, to traverse seamless hours
shifting atmosphere, to walk with flowers.
HOMESCHOOLING MOTHER OF 5, ALL THINGS DOMESTIC, MY CRAZY LIFE
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a roominghouse for the servants of the duende.
Wonderful word craft…even the title is intriguing.
We agree. We love this poem. We’re thrilled to have two Maraj poems in the fall issue and can hardly wait to share them. Thank you so much for reading.