St. George's Sword

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Lisa Vandenaker

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That which grows in darkness must now sneak out slippery
Round she swings her viscous strings entwining
That which weaves a snarled and stained forgotten tapestry
Yarns and lines, the viper vines crawling
Creeping, cropping up, no stopping, cold sinewy claws
Tendons white, the wrapping tight
Her Sansevieria
He who took his vow of silence gripped inside her cage
He who swore must come to roar in love, in rage
He who rends the membrane from the maiden's sticky eye
Scooped up, stolen, one more swollen smile
Waspy, wet, and wails that stretch out loud from mouth to sky
Whips of ivy whirl inside me
Sansevieria

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