by on Apr 7, 2016 in Poetry | 0 comments

A forgotten goddess sips watery coffee
smokes, because this is still America, in South Bend
the ash brings back the fires for her, every time
flower decked villagers danced into exhaustion
for good crops and mild winters
She remembers moss, rocks and birth
how she appeared one day from a cold spring
but on the solstice she became a white crow
some thousand years before the bronze age
Now the waitress brings another plate of eggs
the forgotten goddess stares hard at the girl’s belly
and smirks. She stirs the cream just by thinking.
In a few months the owners will wonder out loud
just why does every single girl they hire
end up pregnant within within the first few months?

Craig Finlay lives in South Bend, Indiana, where he spends a lot of his time being a librarian. His poetry has previously appeared in the Beloit Poetry Journal, Asimov’s, Five 2 One, and the Roundup Writer’s Zine.

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