Poetry: Mikóháza

The dinner rabbit’s blood

Showing the doorstep snow

The best way in

Is falling finally out,

 

In with the wood

Onto the red glazed

Tile oven tiles,

 

Into the livid flicker

In the grate,

 

Into the smoke

White sky

Widening,

 

In with the ash,

The novice priest,

The cassock sleeve,

One flake from all

The fluttering

Wood ash dusting

Down,

 

In through the golden wine,

The ringing shot,

Oil and the spice,

Oil and the finest red powder,

 

In through the rabbit’s suddenly

Naked

Silver

World

 

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