Poesy #6

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

between me

and you

as vast as the chasm between our molecules
as void as the vacuum between stars
and I arch my back alone.

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