bless it all—
the skin of steel,
the vessel proud, bearing its cracks,
the fluid it gives to the mouths and mouths,
the insatiable mouths and mouths.
benevolent illusion winks
to the moon-song made only for her ears.
she shapes the mountain with a hidden smile.
the mountain doesn’t even realise it
has been shape-changed.
you are also water, aren’t you?
changing shape to show another’s face.
why wouldn’t i wait to meet again, then, in our origins?
to slide my neck through the wound in your side
and behold my own face?
i drink her patience to swallow my medicine,
resting in rainbows for my family to come
and see their faces in my shape.
i will not abandon
what i remember.
why wouldn’t i remind you, then?
your soul is the same colour as mine.
become a ritual design wizard with the web of wyrdcraft.
master language to make the imaginal real at the next alchemical writing workshop.
get a copy of my poetry chapbook.