The Widdershins Garden

Blink, the sunglint flies
from canthi; close,
and the dipterous air
dials back
the sunwise:

a Lucifer arrives
bruised from his fall—
wine on wings,
a nebuchadnezzar in hand.

With a wafer-edge,
he skins and splits            an appled worm

bilaterally, alive.

Eat and Drink—
all their lives, humans
will query their clay
hearts, chase out
divinities as you hunt
flies. Beloved

of wine and worm turns
you sheer
winged and blithe, and
I with compound eyes.

Copyright © 2009 Olivia Clare All rights reserved
from Ninth Letter
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission