My thighs had found the air:
eagles glid forth into the misty Sunday morning hills.
My chest stood, bedecked in fronds, on an ancient temple
in thick jungle, towering.
My shoulders spread flat, like the thinning spindle
of a late afternoon fruit buffet, on a simple table
in the Mediterranean,
gushed into by the serene, delicate waist
of my heaven.
My hips, unadulterated creature embedded
into me, bounds and gallops
across the wide earth, plains and rain,
thunderstorms as it roars across echoing distance:
corded as steel
by my legs, bastion of the last legacy,
into the world’s heavy eternity.

Fingers and feet remind me I’m an empire,
thronging, fractured, Godly, embedded:

And the flows:
the momentary eternities of everything I know and feel
tender, mountainous, thick with urgent water and slow caresses:
these tendrils of the Universe sighing inside me
convulse in Beauty.

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