Ancestors

My ancestors conjured silken earth into vessels,

Carved themselves into the hearts of trees,

Dipped their gleaming thighs

Into waters made pale by a thousand stars,

Their songs swaying and undulating like a rolling tide.

They planted the seed moon

Into the warm garden-bowl of their hips,

Their bodies rising with it every night

Until it blossomed full and heavy.

My grandmothers called the dancing wind

With ancient words, hushed and hidden and forgotten,

And wove its magic into their veins.

Their hollow bones made love to

the wide, starry sky

Until they crumbled like clay pots,

Walking with bare feet along the kiln.

And when you thread tangled knots into my wings,

I feel their fingertips kissing my throat

And a wild call inside me remembers