Lunar

 

There are 10,000

     doorways to the temple

          of the Goddess.

All of them
    
     are in your body.

          For one it is this

     fire in the loins.

For one it is the press

          of wet moss

     on the bottom of a

naked foot.

     For you, perhaps,

          the full moon

perishing in
    
          her emptiness.

For me, this breath,

          a diamond knife

     held just above

the heart, and falling

          soft as snow.

She is the mother of wounds!


Photo by Bahman Farsad