Arsenic Lobster poetry journal
Issue Fifteen
Winter 2007
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Rapunzel
Laura Hirneisen

Let down your hair,
centuryís worth at least,
nests for crows and wrens,
tree without leaves.
From your fingertips, pearls,
shower to the garden
where seeds have slept,
indigenous as bees
through winterís hold.

Your spring begins as calls,
starlings below in grass,
iceís wither from ground,
airís tang of mud and wet.
Now you must speak,
rediscover each divot and dip
where you walked before,
your hem like a pair of wings
brushing sky again,
let down your hair.

About Laura Hirneisen

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