many eyes see her
as a bucket of light
thrown over everything
ears hear her from the
throat of a wooden flute
not shaped in this solar system
to the mind she’s the
quake that trembles
giddy with affection
to poets
she is the mother
of a lineage that stretches
as far back as when midnight twirled
around tales told in firelight when
someone would lift from the
cradle of their labor
a poem to read
leaving some eyes shiny
one of the special effects
only love renders