HH4 Poetry

There is something sacred within me /
That I cannot pull out /
And cannot touch

you need a shore of sand /
melted         into lava /
after having sex with the sun /
cooled         into a shock

you have never asked me to do a thing. /
i breathe, you look at the trees, find me /
a seed pod, tell me their species.

in the dry husks of silent reading afternoons
/ we vanquished dragons, slayed hunters, pried open the chest 

I knot my tongue and twirl the steel cord /
suspending me. Motherhood unwinds herself neatly / into spools.

put down your cup until your heart / resumes its march into evening / with the clatter of cutlery