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Kallima Hamilton


Bodhisattva in the avocado grove,
sunlight snakes
between the dark glossed leaves.
Here, in dappled shadows,
we are giving up the world.
Dropping the heavy pack of entanglements,
we experience the weightless
pleasure of drawing back.
Knowing this:
when I own nothing,
I possess the vastness of everything:
close to moon & pine & water.
Suddenly mind clears,
whole nebulae explode as we watch
these purple chrysanthemums of fireworks
declaring our four freedoms.
Luminous eyes of the enlightened
bespeak unchanging happiness—
when I gave up my green-eyed lover,
little trees offered up their lips;
abandoning jewels: now dew beads
diamond my bare feet,
spiders grant me silk of magenta, gold.
Leaving off surfeit & glut,
I’ve grown sleek and ready for hiking,
a wild gazelle. Embracing emptiness,
I live in unfathomable luxury,
a subtle ecstasy of naked sky,
my bones breaking toward Nirvana.

Kallima Hamilton has worked as assistant librarian and ESL instructor. Her poetry has appeared in Mudlark, Sugar Mule and Shenandoah.