Ouroboros

The swan of midnight blue
Circles about the lake.

An octagon, an orb of deep ribbon;
She is inside herself as a death, medieval

In a splendor unrefined. Wilderness
Comes forth through her movement like a

Blossom birthed from moonrise.
She is the master of

Undoing, hasten to unravel
All that is woven so to tangle herself

In starshine, slippery elm, white
Willow in a kiss.

Gifted in evasion, she dives as a
Stone, to reach depths

No living thing could. She swallows
Darkness, and becomes a ring,

Of nothing more or less
Than memory.

First published on Poet’s Corner April 19, 2016

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