The Widow
Β©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025
Black bile, yellow bile:
Autumn-aspen leaf-pile flecked with blight
Quivers, exudes milky sap as it takes fright;
Sprouts limbs, tail, head as
Six-pronged icon of dogged, laggard ardour;
Takes flight from logs brought inside and
Placed upon the fire.
When meads and leas are drunk with dusky dew,
She bathes before a hearth of wood and coals aglow;
Braids her white-streaked, jet-black strands:
Young widow -
Beetle-browed, kohl-rimmed Kahlo -
Dark eyes fixed upon a scarlet sky beyond the
Open window.
Flying creature ringed with fire -
Drake or Lindworm hornet-hued,
Quencher of smithiesβ forges -
Whooshes, circles ever closer,
Dancing off the Soulβs dross in
Flames of Purgatory,
Flames of chaste restraint,
Flames of undying desire.
Sparks set the thatch alight.
Now with brows fused, eyes ink-pooled,
She slams the window shut.
From within:
Gasps, sighs, kisses and
Shrieks of delight.
Inspired by ΠΠΌΠ΅ΠΉ (βSerpentβ, βDragonβ 1847),
Afanasy Fet (1820-1892)
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#poem: Β©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025
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