by Ingrid Keir
Voices in the southern wind,
her brick-colored breath reminds,
we are at her mercy she can blow fire our way,
eradicate an entire town with Santa Anas,
hot and dry as crackers in the desert.
Fire as transformation, crackling flames
a campsite breakfast, the smells of bacon
on the cast iron grill, while the vines climb up the large oak tree
tendrils of morning glory, that violet bloom
seduces me out of the tent to watch the sunrise in silence-sizzle.
Water as sea, as tears, as swells, as falls,
baptize, wash the impurities, the castaways,
the vestiges of precarious decisions,
poorly chosen syntax, poorly chosen lovers.
Cleanse the wounds, but still let us run
toward the jasmine fragrance of love.
Little blue speck of cosmic dust
floating in space, miraculous.
I celestite you when I'm blue,
I malachite you when I'm green.
We won't speak of the crystals
I've given back to you, hidden
in crevices across Scotland, California, Italy
I have my secrets, I circumambulate the labyrinth
while I offer you this hymn, this joy.
About the Author:
Ingrid Keir is a Sonoma county based poet. She runs Feather Press, an indie literary press. She is co-founder of the WordParty, a long-running San Francisco poetry and jazz series. Ingrid has organized numerous readings and been a featured reader at many diverse venues in the Bay Area. She has written several books: The Secrets of Like (2004), Toward the Light (2007) and The Choreography of Nests (2016). In 2016, she was shortlisted for the Litquake poetry contest, and in 2024 she won the International Turas d’Anam Samhain Poetry Contest. You can find more info at Ingridkeir.com