There is

nothing left to worship.

The three-tined sun is on a string.

A chain to hang you on.

A rope to coil when you’re done.


Lately, a sharp-winged bird skims the dusk

dragging the web-footed dark.


Up there down there.


Foreground. Background.

What you can swing from.


Renée Ashley, USA (1947 -)



“There Is” from The View from the Body.  Copyright © 2016 by Renée Ashley.  Reprinted by permission of Black Lawrence Press.




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