SAINT JOAN

. . .

Lord, who granted my solitude,
the world will have me as it pleases. Before the pyre
I ask that my body be transformed to nothing

human: to be neither living nor dead. By your grace
I would kneel again,
I would kneel again beside you -

How my body rose
in that blaze, leaving

no ash scattered in its wake.

Coming Soon

the waves were coming in like arabian stallions gradually lapping into seahorses