Fourth Form

Given up the crown
the gift remains

a sundering, a fold
of robes and riches
turned inward like a blade

a geode’s
cut light.

If you could fathom rising
through the steam of an ox throat
cut in winter

you might know the heat and arc of fury,
then stillness pursuing
like the glacier hearts of herons.

But you do not know

for the mind cannot follow this,
where the body has gone.

Having been touched,
you may not return the form
once carried.

Though from time to time
you can bury your hands in the earth
and empty yourself
like a star, burning.

Stephanie Rose Adams is the author of The Sundering, chosen by Linda Gregg for a NY Chapbook Fellowship from The Poetry Society of America. Her poems have appeared in The Boston Review, Sharkpack Poetry, and Orion Magazine. Stephanie lives in the Pacific Northwest with her wayward Guatemalan pup and a host of other willful creatures real and imaginary.