Писанка: Ukrainian Princess in Holy Week

She
takes the large
white egg still warm
from the straw of the
hen house into her skillful
princess fingers that are more
accustomed to triggers and bolt
handles than finery and delicate
things and holds it up in the light of
sunrise casting over her shoulder
and sees setting in the west the
whitest roundest egg, the first
full moon of spring. She writes
her poems in beeswax.
Her lips are red as
lamb’s blood.

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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3 Responses to Писанка: Ukrainian Princess in Holy Week

  1. Nicole Yurcaba says:

    This is beautiful. I absolutely love it!

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