Prayer to the Skunk Living Under the Cottage
Prayer to the Skunk Living Under the Cottage
Let my mind not dwell in dead seas,
where flotsam and jetsam masquerade
as honest jellyfish, where even turtles
dare not swim, let alone eat. Caught
in the waves of false prophets, may I
stay deaf to the lapping of their tongues.
Let my heart not swell and unhinge
to encompass the whole of the earth,
like a snake swallowing a dove, but
let it be cocooned in the infinite tendrils
of the universe, where time does not
exist, only lux et veritas and change.
Let my spirit not stray far from home,
like chicory stalking a field of clover,
lest she get lost or choose to never return,
as the Amish teen during rumspringa—
but most importantly, forager of the night,
streaking ghost shades of black and white,
if nothing else, please don’t spray the dogs.
Photo by Tinh Nguyen on Unsplash