Earth Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Come close; come closer.
You must.
My lust is slow, but consuming.

Come blindly into my darkness,
My wet, black rose.

I'll lay you down,
I'll loosen your loins
In my rich, sweet niche of rot.
In the sift of ages,
Pharoah and slave come hot
To my tight embrace;
My tawny sepulchral charms
Are irresistible.

Don't quibble. We are well met.
Not a single hair of your precious head
Will I share.
Your nacreous skull,
The pearled gleam of your eyes,
The curved rib of your hull
Will launch me a forest yet.

I breed the power of the oak,
The sloth of the snail.
I swallow shadow and shape,
I am the curving knife behind the eleventh veil.
Returned to my midnight nursery,
The prideful nettle, the timid Columbine,
Eagle and ant and king in me combine.

I am the breast that feeds the suckling corn,
I am the rag-doll bride of the plough.
You who would reap my harvest,
Now do you know who colours the morning green?

I am Queen of the May,
I am the blood of the bull,
I am the seed of decay,
I am the pounce of the owl,
I am the door of dismay,
I am the wolf's howl.
I am end, and beginning of all,
The roll of my heavy thigh, is rhythmic, seminal...

Hear me, each white, umbilical root
(Desdemona abed with her Moor) ,
I am a cruel Madonna
Sharing the throne of the mole,
I settle all dispute.