Another poem; this one by Becki Newell.

Bella Donna

.

Standing and

just staring,

black beads for

eyes and

dressed in

emerald silk.

.

I fear her.

This woman of

beauty

his bella donna.

.

Standing and

just staring,

but despite her

inanimate stance,

she poisons.

.

her beaded droplets

of woven fabric,

good enough to eat…

but ingestion penetrates.

.

I fear her…

yet I revere her.

How she stands

through flood and

lightning strike!

Bracing.

.

I revere her

when poison turns

to elixir.

When her face from

drained turns

rosy,

.

her expression

from bleak fatalism

to benevolence.

.

She heals.

And I have

learnt to love

the fear of her

stark omnipotence,

her presence

through all things.

.

For every one thing

she takes

she gives back

another.

As the moon casts

her shadow

when she stands

beneath

her deadly nightshade.