Cynthia Stewart wrote this poem in response to the October Poetry Prompts:
in the ice chapel she worked furiously
to keep in rough touch with the heat.
when the chalice dropped, she
fell towards the floor to capture it
in her right hand.
do not say his name so quickly
it makes the oppression more real
she said to herself
do not say the name of any person.
exist in the in-between spaces of life
where nothing touches you with red
wine and crushed persimmons.
keep your feet covered as you brush
over the tiles
your head covered as you accept the
falling snow through the ceiling’s absence..
let lacy movements embrace you tonight –
Clare Schuman’s fluttering fingers
turning music in the paper wind.