her body

why don’t we make music from her body?

legs running while they remain still

her body stretched out as she balances

the world on her thighs?

chest: expanded, breathing

the arch of her back still

linking the bones before her navel

and the way the legs shoot out

straight and herd apart,

like two lovers dancing

around her vulva

Every day I wake to this.

the way the spine clicks when we unfold

arms almost brushing the stars

head tilted so far back in rapture

one could kiss the skin of our necks

we dance with two pearls on our chests

that draw down to the crease between our legs

we paint mirrors of the fire on our lips

that remain red even in the darkness.

we fold in soft pillows of apricot,

our limbs joint in sync with

skin aching of almonds and poinsettias

and strawberries.

we are made of a dozen flowers

and hold fragments of powers

the earth was too tired to carry.​​​​

––her body