Beat; beat. The waves curl and break within my body, up my torso, up my shoulders, and burst into my throat, incessant, insistent, so constantly ardent. Where to? Where to? Where are you going? Oh, where are you going?
If you allowed you to love yourself, the rough diamonds languidly studding all the curves of your underground, you would understand how silly it is to wish you were more. You already are so much.
When the sun colors the sky, the girl dons on her red frock embroidered with flowers, bevied with joy, dancing in celebration, petal–eyelids open into awe. With just the same heart When the moon woos, our lady is wrapped in her black dress, bubbles and stews, crackling, agape at the universe, irises open to the multitude, cherishing each star a sun.
I know not how many tiers your fountain. It proudly stands in the piazza. All I have is my pitter–patter, pitter–patter–pit, softly, gently, hard to notice — continually, till drip and splash and undulation, reverberation, over the edge and overflowing over every lip.
I sing to you, brass belle, deep, in your frequency, a joyful tone till two smiling wench’s eyes blink knowingly, happily back at me. Enthralled, you open your mouth and bless the reverberations with ethereal delight. Us two laughing, broomless witches clasp hands in the wind and fly.
Naked matriarch crowned with lights, your scepter playfully glinting while two angel wings tickle from your back, aglow, I bow in your presence and humbly take your plump hand to lightly add that touch of sparkling polish to your fingertips. Excuse my awe as I am entranced by your fairie bright eyes as I paint silver upon your lips; then, once more bow to finish with attention to your toes.
How is this I felt the ruddy outlines of love jut from me, physically present? Not of my own will — a companion — such a gift, so precious I would never wish it harm. Yet, when I shout, “I refute thee thusly”, I rend my toe upon this happy calamity.
Your gaze before me, as pleasant as sparkles on the sea, I dig for the gem you carelessly dropped, the muddy ocean seeping under each paw.
The anchor tugs the bottom of my heart — a heart bobbing on the waves — trucks it on a steady journey to the bottom of the sea, to its own country with new life. Upon touching ground, a phosphorescent chain-reaction alights the ocean floor.
Heavy drops fall and wet the grass and bark. Leaves stir; darkness gathers into a grumble. My stomach churns. I, so young, gaze though the window in earnest anticipation, witness spasms of light and crashes of thunder. My organs quake with each strike. How could I and this vast tumult — am I part of nature? Is this my true mother calling me, claiming me, seeking me out? Strange rending, I confess I am you.