“Tundras of tears poured
Where outside of my eyes,
a frosted window, a cat’s tail
and marble as my footing.
I have turned the orange
light to blues and in so doing
have turned my eyes
ephemerally to flora.”
Pulling herself from the water,
her stories all dripping from her skin,
plopped upon her every step;
her palm to page is the rock she’s
propped upon as chapters glissade
in collages across her river bank –
The Girl stood firm
against the forest’s shadows,
her hand to visor against the sun
she bends at knees and hips,
surveying the horizon…
“From me all seen
my eddies are burning
Her palm open and flushed
against the wind, straight backed
drawn against the waters…
“Fuck it,” she says,
“I’m getting wet.”
Across the river
there rests the ceiba trees
cloistered as background
noise and almost gone,
almost swallowed by the garden.
“Down the hatch!” she rustles.
The forest circled.
Zero tightened against her fist, fingers slid
in a grip across his shin, her calf muscles,
his thigh in her teeth, her mouth opening
his lips now moved to a moist parting
and now –
all Zero can do is smile,
“You are the only stone I can’t skip!” he spouted.
And she kisses him all ink and letter
lipped dripping with consonants
and the hipbones of phonemes.
Hand held they
arrogantly and leaping
with an uppercut to sucker punch
the tree’s branches smilingly yelling in unison,
“Fuck you nature!”
Zero bare footed against
the climbing rocks,
shawled between his sun
and his shoulders.
aching against the slow
waves one finds
in these quick forests.
“No magic, only geometry!” Zero huffs
“only words, syntax.” The Girl spatters
“Idioms, expressions!” Bellowed both as
backwards, back lit, against
the sight of boulders
rocked slight against their current;
dense in its distance,
far even off the periphery
a moment opens; the streams
begin to rush, as the rivers rain