Song of Herself
I
Cupping the cosmos in my healer-lined hands
breath, like a wave, washes up and recedes
My thoughts the sand
My spirit the water
My emotions its salty kiss
launching my lips to song
A splash of black when I close my eyes
beyond stars
beyond sky
This life was made for breaking
and mending again
The light curve of a scar
reads like the arc from the wrist to above the thumb
upon the palm
II
The me with pure intentions. The part that doubts
myself. The one who dances alone in the living room
when no one’s looking.
As complex as global affairs
as simple as 1,
these facets begin to meld together.
A diamond shines, reflects the light,
sparkles in shards like pale yellow butterflies against the dark.
III
Dark mermaid. Siren. Witch.
Queen of snakes.
Neglected.
Misunderstood.
Wild tresses dance like lightning.
A glance that freezes fate
The female gaze.
a melody’s ocean unfolds
floating still my fingers press smooth the piano keys
dancing like bubbles in the deep water’s glitter
my fingers on the keys
a wave my fingers the music
dives down depths into
the sea of notes
my arms glide wide find
a pearl of white glimmer
the heart well releases tides
somewhere between
memory and this moment
i was here and am now gone
bobbing you the message in the
bottle glass green
listen,
Free Spirit
Legs swing like she’s little girl again,
With knobby knees and mary janes
she perches on her coffin, grinning.
Her hands dabbed paint into a portrait
of me at age 3 in the bluebonnets,
soaked her brushes until each bristle gleamed.
One stockinged foot directed the steady whirr
of the sewing machine,
creating a wardrobe for my dolls.
Near the end the darkness came for her.
Oh shadows! How time beckons the black harvest.
She spoke to angels I could not see.
And now she alights from her coffin
like a balloon careening as the air escapes
glittering free above me in the funeral parlor.