by Jnana Hodson
Queen of the Moon, enthroned
atop a white statue
of St. Joseph
in the pelvis of church towers,
both facing the broad lake:
Bless me and the angel with an oboe voice.
More than the dark pigeons, flocking.
So passive, she could not be held.
Elusive, yet essentially
eating away mountains.
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This is a beautiful poem, Jnana. Such rhythmic and gorgeous language.
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