To hold Menippê’s hand

**Mariacarla Boscono** photographed by © **Paola Kudacki**

Mariacarla Boscono—myth, mother, muse.

Your window is broken by the comet that is her. The chair is now on fire and the ceiling is bleeding roses. They have bloomed to shed their petals upon her naked shoulders, near the spot where angels grow their wings. She has fallen through a vortex of honey and sin in search of restless secrets. You won’t notice the broken glass but you will hear her reflection as it romances the flame-kissed darkness. Engulfed in crimson, you’ll rise in time to follow her footprints in the ash that will soon settle on your sacred ground. She’ll tell you stories of being banished to the sky and you will show her where to find the most beautiful wild flowers. You will share your earth and she will gift you the hand-woven clouds she packed for her voyage into the abyss that now also gazes into you. The comet that is her will be turned, by love, back to flesh and bone. And tomorrow, you will hold Menippê’s hand to conjure lost truths armoured by black locust thorns. Watching in silence as the sun pours its nectar onto your softly gilted skin.

You can read more of Kathryn’s poetry here.

This meditation was first published in issue 28 of LOVE WANT