The night irons the day. Licks off smoke
rusty fog, yesterday’s memories.

I hide my toe in a blackened dream
gazing wishfully up – the sky

a black granite countertop cold and heavy
peek-a-boos with a butter tongue

dancing for the howling packs.
My eyes align with Polaris, celestial pin

peripheral marking. A cosmic chordophone
striking the head with a force of a child’s wish

transcending songs from a rainbow bridge.
Ears drown in aural runes, sigils in DNA

rattle the bones. The heart lulls under a veil
of Northern snow and soon –

I pass the Baltic Sea, bedrocks of Helsinki
enticed by sweet promises of apples and rhubarb

clinging on to the apron of my Mother
impatiently waiting to taste home.

Saga Bloom

Published in Three Drops from a Cauldron, June 2nd 2019