Haltia , a Baltic goddess, is known for holding a house together. Her devotees greet her whenever they cross the sill. Considered the domestic benevolent glue, when one moves away, it is necessary to carry a pocket of hearth ashes for the new home. Haltia, I’ve got my eye on you, even as I climb from rumbled bed covers, I meant to make up with neat corners, tribute to your nimble fingers removing pebbles from my path. I meant to fluff the pillows, smooth the duvet. I meant to wash the dishes and wipe the counters because I know how you love to vex chaos, how you bring hearts to hum beside the calico. I meant to splash three drops of lemon and clove into the diffuser, invite a hint of your fidelity along my shoulder. Instead, I rolled some floral essentials across a wrist and imagined meadows. I am testing your sublime spirit, seeking blessings without alms. I am baiting you to shadow me under the hickory beams, help you understand how they miss their canopy – the whispers of
Kinetic Poetry - Subject to change without warning.