lashes black and wet and
shaped like little
bolts.
watched fireflies,
licked earlobes,
tried fingers on while I
played with truths                  denied them,
held water in my thumbnail to appreciate
evaporation, longing for ground,
consecration to transience that got me all the way
to your background.
felt your skeleton pressed tightly against
my chest; our bones clanked with ease
and I took in the scene of two women
unclothed and unseen
underneath some crescent innuendo
in your backyard
without friendship between them;
without people between them and I dared
to stare in a way that endures more than
deciduous planting.
shattered at the
not now
you spoke back
with a masculine fragility
I had never known          envied,
tried on later with pants,
unplucked eyebrows,
interminably alone.
an unwatched bull headed to your porch,   
I was snorting and you were
bare faced and guarded in all the ways
I have yet to learn.

I’m so obvious about my trouble:
scarlet forest fire that starts with a joke,
two bodies parting,
an unreturned question that ends
with a sharp exclamation,
annihilation of your other,
ends with a reminder from someone higher to stop
destroying something to eliminate one part.
open coercion when I should have been
patient;
when I should have been laid in the grass gently
next to the ant hills and you can learn my thighs,
breasts,
spine,
toes curled
without injury;
when I should have been pausing to notice
there are no people between us;
when I should have been gracious,
interminably naked.
I remove the rest of my top
and close my eyes deliberately
to show you the length
of each thorn.

I have never become divine
without first becoming
storm.

“Saturn in Scorpio”

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