let the hounds come
the hounds with their red eyesred tongues
let them come
bring snow, hail, storm
let the cosmos loose
all the bolts that wound
or test the heart
bring fire
bring loneliness
bring death
and still the hare of me
will flare across this quickening field
belly to the wet black earth
nose to the wide and changing sky
and know this to be home; this
and you whom I've never left, my twin –
slipstreaming as we were from the beginning
in the constellations' milky wake –
and love, the one true thing
– Roselle Angwin
albrecht durer's hare |
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