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.