66

make me clean-edged
and sane
a plain-tea drinking
example in neutrality

or make me the painted
desert
buffed from my spines
smooth, water-nurturer

pull me from my throne
to dirt
apply your lessons to
to buttercup shoulders

fling all my meanings
aside
and pattern new discoveries
into malleable will

i'm clay
milk and fire
treacle-sheen
molten muscle bending
toward the ideas of
smart dinner parties
where fingers exchange
cool energy

where such intensities
meet the flirtation
of a weak resistance
of arms raised to dance,
poised
spinning
like rocks skipping
over a marble-still
water's surface

chase away the old
sunday feelings and
greet me, enclose me
in the opiate arms
of 3am
where low voices blend
and burn into a static
emblem of heavy eyelids
and the scent of
your nape

i will fall amongst
the leaves, waxy silver
and sage, a chameleon
in shades of burgeoning,
floating spring.