By Margery Hannah
by Margery Hannah
Sand falls to the platter
of dry branches resting
in a baby cardboard box
I bless you and lower my gaze
wipe greased palms
on linen white
Drop it in the box
Chant, “Prosperity, prosperity, prosperity”
Match the platter with burning light
Now, spit upon the flames
You are now a footstool
for dreams abundant
© Margery Hannah 2003-2021 All Rights Reserved
Shanai Williams