Holy oracle
Ever since I found out that earthworms have taste buds
all over the delicate pink strings of their bodies,
I pause dropping apple peels into the compost bin, imagine
the dark, writhing ecstasy, the sweetness of apples
permeating their pores. I offer beets and parsley,
avocado, and melon, the feathery tops of carrots.
I'd always thought theirs a menial life, eyeless and hidden,
almost vulgar – though now, it seems, they bear a pleasure so sublime, so decadent, I want to contribute however I can,
forgetting, a moment, my place on the menu.
— Danusha Laméris
what’s a holy oracle if not the body being one with the earth beneath her?
earth as holy rebellion
earth as salve for the good woman
earth as echo of soul
earth as mirror to truth
when all the distractions fall away
when your phone is off and your computer is shut
when your life is splayed, on the table
and your feet are in the dirt
and it’s just you breathing with the wet ground
who do you become?