The Feminine Divine:  A Love Letter to Laverne by Marianne Peel

             -for Laverne Zabielski of Lexington, KY:  fabric artist, poet, activist, feminist  

She stands unhunched over her cauldron
at the chime of midnight.
Not a stewpot of eye of newt,
or tail of toad.
Hers is a brew
of dandelion wine
and blistered berries,
of bruised boysenberries
and salvaged milkweed.
A temptation of palettes
spun from the opening
of a restless umbrella.
She can see the rhododendrons
blossoming in your stomach,
the ficas tree fermenting in your esophagus,       
the cabbages flowering in your cataracts.
She drapes livers and lungs
on the walls and rooftops.
The house as body.
The house as a place
where we hang our sweat-rimmed hats,
our dripping overcoats,
the slick skin of our flesh. 
Hers is a laundry of elegance.
A clothesline of silks
waltzing between marigolds and gladiolas.
Here, slide into this pulp of oranges,
this pith of a shawl.
Come,
unveil your layered life,
this textured act of power
wrapped around your shoulders. 
Listen,                                                                           
and if your place your ear
atop the shimmering shibori dye
you will hear your own desires
bursting like a Kentucky harbinger of spring. 
Let the not quiet
roar.