I can feel the flood coming,
rising over my skin like warm silk.
I can feel the fever creeping down the Mother’s brow,
verdant rushes rippling
down Her fertile thighs.
I can feel the drumming in my heels,
hard dirt arching up to meet my soles
pounding thunder from the dust,
beating ghosts from the ground
and sweat from the sky.
I can feel the dance sliding around my hips,
lacing up my back like a well-strung gown
knotted not to be where it was tied
but as an obstacle course for your hands,
nimble as gymnasts
as they tumble down my vertebrae.
I can feel you
and I can feel the space
as vast as the chasm between our molecules
as void as the vacuum between stars
and I arch my back alone.