If she held a beacon
tightly to her breast
it would not shadow her,
nor would her hands be stained
were she to touch
the Holy Grail.
Her veins would never tangle
should she frolic
with the gods
nor would she burn to ashes
running naked
through the fire.
She’d not be struck with blindness
nor would her conscience bleed
were she to waken Eros
from a dream.
.
© 1995, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright
.
For the next poem in this series, please click on the Mayberrie tab at the top of this page, to see entire list.
(I’m in the slow process of linking them all together.)
Seasonings 