Eva SKRANDE

THE MASON PARTY

 The river mason was there.
The woman who had built a heart
with no bitter lemons was there too.
So was the horse that had built the town
where the women have mountains for souls.
The maker of wolves,
the one who had made it possible
for them to mate with the river, was there.
The birds brought a few nests
where the oxen and tide could mate,
confusing the moon. The harbor came,
who built the voices of anchors.
The seamstress who dresses the echoes
with nothing to wear
arrived behind the ploughman
who revives the fields of fire
on the tongues of the pomegranates.
The mason of love was there too--
the one who loves with the horse's fury--
the one whose mane falls gently
over the bruised lips of a warring earth.

TABLE OF CONTENTS    NEXT PAGE