144. To the Stars Through Difficulties: Sarah Smarsh

Queen up from field fire, feathered in myth.
Faces west with father’s scythe.
Leaves mother, leaves brother, leaves fall.
They’ll save themselves, all.

Follows a red ball to woods of holly berries.
It’s time, says August, for what destiny marries:
Two starseed crowns–since Earth demands
That home’s between held hands.

Dance do drangonflies in rhyme.
Laugh at God, craft a manger. It’s time.

— Sarah Smarsh

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