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July 9, 2010

Featured Article, Poetry, Words

hazelwood place | december 2009 | douglas imbrogno



In the light given
all the light this
night, iridescence
of a bronze shield

hair drawn off cheek
pulled back to reveal
Artemis. Or is it Selene?
Crescent moon

tumbling like a stone
in a roil of black-purple
clouds over head.
Don’t doubt, although

I know you must. A hundred
times, the gods say – don’t
go to the hilltop. But you do,
which is, of course,

their point. A deer,
white as Carrarra marble,
on the lip of the
pine-scented woodland

incantatory, whispers:
‘Artemis Agrotera,
Potnia Theron.

Flees into the dark.



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