Once upon a time, power touched my head tenderly, and pink rocks warmed in my hands, while
Goof watched me in earnest, from age and hooded bangs, with gentle demands.
Infinite bridgelettes reached for me with a soft smirk, Blushing petals secretly rooting in my dirt,
Rose quartz, peonies, water for this desert.
My sisters waited.
Meats and cheese greased my gut, made slip-and-slides out of the words
That poured into the hours of near nonsense. Oh, heartbreaking nerds.
A silent ‘h’ on the backside of a couch heartened my mind,
Highlighted this heat and helped connect err with her, Xes with Ohs, and Time.
A new mad diet, this indulgent-ketosis.
A brotherly hush baked in rhyme.
Love spoke again with my tongue and I bowed.
Some heavyset eyes, dark with anything, everything possible,
Challenged all my lies. My forgotten offspring
She moved with her mind, and her ocean beneath my fledgling wings
Made of life such a trick, simple and wide, like her eyes, her eyes.
Browns were a rainbow, given to me, to see where I was meant to be: Watery, earthy.
Her flow, how smooth and still chunky? How am I again
My own junkie? And is it allowed, this selfish gift? How loud may I sing?
How proud on the bow of this ship going down is
The mermaid thing that in her drenched cast yet reaches for the clouds?
Love spoke again with my tongue and I bowed.
Sparks shot again through this crude fare,
Food for thought that cannot think. Every time I saw his face I stared,
An iceberg thawed, the stars began to blink, and I to sink,
Like a fool at the edge from the top on the brink.
Into that rawness I melted heat, then left in awe: Wake up, you basic meat!
“Oh I’m awake,” she replied, “Now I am free.”
Oh boy, give me a moment to brace against my own insanity.
Love comes so swiftly! And I am instantly bare, nothing left to cover what’s there.
And though I know he currently can’t see, I still crumble over and over, utterly.
No power on earth, no wisdom or smile, no charcuterie or tic-tac-toe child
Would ever let this dream not walk into the sky. Oh, I’m awake indeed; it’s far too late to die.
And though I cannot fly, I hope:
Like sugar on high and spinach plateaued.
On dancer and vixen! On cupid a la mode! I cope:
I love. I’m a fairytale toad, a fanciful pigeon-dove gazing on crooked-tip-toe.
I give this energy to the century, because I know eventually
All things come around again. Like baby season suddenly,
Right now, always when you think you’ve breathed your last subtlety…But then—
Once more, power touched me, tenderly.
