One day I too will be
found, a lightning root
in a sky underground,
marked by whatever the years
will have done – the fur
my hands have stroked, the greens
that pushed through soil
and passed my lips,
the darkness my bones carried
and yes, something
glittering in the champagne
those nights I thought I would live
forever, petal that I was.
The wind wrapped me in a skein of cries.
I aged closer to the ground
and fell in with the weather as she
changed and changed her mind.
My breasts ached.
Then shrank. My bones
thinned to lace. Was this
a departure? Some
would have it so-some
who walk the world with one
blind eye and one empty socket.
Leave a Reply