Streams of golden mist
weave paths through streets
lined by temples
of glittering emerald, shining dew.
The air is new
and fresh and rich and ready.
I’ll crawl from the soil
to stand naked in the sunlight,
strong and mute and open.
The rain will rinse the earth from my hair,
scrub the dirt from my nails,
wash the moss from my back,
til I am clean and pink and perfect.
I’ll find my voice on the ocean floor,
the waves will teach me
how to sing,
and then i’ll bring myself to you;
you’ll kiss my cheek, you’ll stroke my hair,
all while quietly unaware
that I am she that plucks stars from the sky,
with bruised knuckles and bloodshot eyes.
of winter snow will show
how frantic and fatal these hands can be.
You’ll embrace me
Then: teeth through soft flesh,
of strawberry sweetness,
and we are the ships on hysteric waves.
I’ll leave my lipstick on your ribs,
my perfume on your pillow,
plunge finger and thumb through muscle
Bury inside you, back to the earth.
I will paint these words
on the underside of your skin,
build a home on the banks
of the rivers within,
and there I will stay.
There I will stay.