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All Souls

Cougnac Cave, France

Many corners turned beneath

pencil-thin stalactites, thousands

like upside down candles,

wet flames dripping.

Beyond my mind’s

violence, there,

an ibex painted

in calcite-milk

with wall-ooze for

a shaggy coat. Will it always

be buried? Memory

stumbling into mineral stillness,

crystallized, almost lucid, or carried—

a forgotten animal across

my shoulders, radiant

and awash in lactation, made

with hand, mouth, spit.

Dear friend, I remember

being painted

in coal and blood,

and the long gallery

where all souls parade.

from Red DeerFind it in the library

Copyright © Persea Books 2015
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.

Published in Anne Marie Macari Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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