Sacred Geometry

Updated: Feb 26, 2020

I am poised above you:

one foot on the horn

of a crescent moon.

Arms outstretched.

My right hand holds

the murmuration that

celebrates the sky

outside the window.

My left hand holds

the choral voices

that flow from the

radio in the corner.

Every blessing

you ever gave me

surrounds my head

as a crown of stars.

There is a fine thread

strung between us

that I hold

between my teeth.

Below me you lie. Dying.

Your hospital bed awash

with poppies, buttercups

and sweet meadow grasses.

(c) Kate Gold 2020

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