I.
I wove almond and honey
Between the cells of my skin
Ginger and mint and
Lemons in my hair
My breath made the water boil- I held it and heard Iron and Wine from beneath the surface.
Curled on my side
Hands to collarbone
Knees to breast
In a green and porcelain womb, I
Dissolve. This time, I am
Surrounded by myself.
II.
You wove sequences into my cells
Coded nuclei with
Four letters that- together- narrated
Freckles and
Jade eyes and dusty hair and pale,
Thin minnow feet.
Amino acids in trios- each a page
That told of wide hips and small teeth
Stars on my shoulders.
You wove a book that, read aloud,
Was a girl.
I was pale below the surface, I was
A bone, a rib-
White beneath the red. You learned
To write in verse and I
Learned to read myself aloud-
Anew
At the end of each chapter.
III.
Together, we were an odyssey.
But this time, Penelope sailed-
Through angry seas and trickster winds-
Home to herself.
IV.
I will curl beneath green again,
Eyes closed and
Music bubbling in my ears. My
Sense of self dissolving
Into jacaranda blossoms. Little bodies made of yellow will
Cradle me-
Gentle as a womb.
They will weave my cells
Into honey again, and I will not need heaven.
V.
Almond soap the color of my freckles, I
Close my eyes beneath honey-water. I sleep
knowing that ants will not
Go slow dancing amid my eyelashes
Yet.
I stand, I shed drops from my ribs
in the shape of apple seeds.
I stand, I've come home
To myself.
