give it to me, God
can be a risky request.

immured in soft crystal, I felt
on the verge of therapeutically unhinged
all winter.
my hair was combed,
my lips were never chapped,
I wore blush every day,
stockings–
no runs,|
and my tongue tied
completely
so no one asked
what I may have needed.

chased an impartial sun
half of December
and spent the other half
shrouded,
soaked in flower essences        I preferred
helenite draped in tiger’s eye so I’m more
sudden hot eruption than slow boil
but tonight I try more benevolent blooms
and pausing
and
watch my flimsy, cherry-dipped
ylang ylang fingertips
shake unsteadily
and without any observable provocation,
suddenly stop untying my velvet collar,
suddenly shy away from the mirror,
suddenly lunge and land
on my ball of red sheen obsidian
delicately scraped from the bottom of some
extinct volcano;
still mired in sudden climax,
rinsed and smoothed for my
handling pleasure, now
pressed against my sacral as I spread my arms wide
on the mattress, making way for my
own crucifixion,
it was
“heart chakra activating.”

for wisdom.
for understanding.
for love, for love, for
soft, soft
l       o          v         e
with protection.
and my heart;
poor, twisted carnivore
always unsure of when the next meal will
bite back,
can shift her way into a
permanent snarl
with protection.

I stomp into the other room and
shatter the bowl
they let me borrow.
strip my skin of clothes and scent in
a hot steam bath
and
let the pieces rest.
watch my step
around the house
for now.

my place,
one carnelian cobweb,
can’t be swept.

“heart”

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