Ascent
I wind my way
to the top of the stairs
to a secret place
where prayers await
discovery
They do not come
out of me,
these supplications,
but cling to me there
like field seeds
to feral fur;
left behind by other
penitents or angels;
mice in corners
chanting to the One
The earth is full of
unspoken adoration
waiting to be ours
for the climb
-Kat Cavanaugh LaMantia
I wind my way
to the top of the stairs
to a secret place
where prayers await
discovery
They do not come
out of me,
these supplications,
but cling to me there
like field seeds
to feral fur;
left behind by other
penitents or angels;
mice in corners
chanting to the One
The earth is full of
unspoken adoration
waiting to be ours
for the climb
-Kat Cavanaugh LaMantia
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