The Third Queen

My bleeds are stuttering now,
Clapping out their own rhythm
More gaps than notes…
Still mysterious to that part of me 
That loves to hold the bow
And count the arrows

But my dandelion body knows the time
Each falling flying seed 
Drifts me towards a different womb
Emptiness than before 

In this space between two stories
It’s time to lie fallow again
To hold my body in the dark
Just as I hold my breath

Shapeless futures pool in front
Squall and sediment behind
I am baby held in cradle
I am mother waiting
Growing someone in a different way

Let me be now
My own wide and slow river
That knows it’s flow
Without the pushing

I could burn in the flame
Of the third queen 
Be diminished to smeared ash
On a petrified creature 

Or rise
Transformed from beak to tail
And cleared of all disguises
Glowing from the fire within

A poem by Deirdre Gleeson

Image Credits: Unsplash – Averie Woodard / Christopher Campbell

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Deirdre Gleeson
Deirdre Gleeson
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