poetry

Parallax Femme. {poetry}

 

 

C’mere, she says,

lip and forefinger.

Here is,

depending on your looking-line,

a brilliant stone,

a mercurial moonbeam.

How to play in her light,

how to stay in her sight,

how to dance without fright.

Because Bam!

Hot Damn!

Dragon daughter, mother lover, quiet queen,

She’s a blue-eyed comet, blazing bright all night.

Look left.

High on a wire,

strung taut between head and heart,

fearless grace sways.

She admits, I can ferret and chop.

Nonchalant.

I’d rather contemplate

a grinning paradox

tickling my open hand.

Step back, come closer.

Stay there, cross over.

Stop the band, kiss the clover.

Look right.

Here, hatched in a nest of books,

a flying fish.

A galaxy glider, a satellite rider,

a milky way pearl.

Waiting in lines, she listens.

Memorizing lines, she marvels.

She’s tracing skin lines,

master of first impressions.

She reads intense, prickling,

vulnerable signs.

You know firsthand the feeling

of expansive connection with the universe.

Pressing her palm, the wire wobbles.

No flinching, flailing, faltering —

she leaps.

Free-falling glory,

raining

joy.

I could be totally wrong,

but I doubt it.

Not wrong.

C’mon, she lures

and assures,

I’ll catch you.

Look past the romance cult where egos reign,

Inseparable from the scared,

scarred, forgotten.

Look here,

Alive, awake, attentive, unbroken.

Above the grazing sheep,

Not a snob —

Nor a saint —

But no small sprout

rooted in terrestrial crack.

Look far.

Here, in the tower of Babel, trickster;

here, in the temple of Nemesis, Themis.

She is not here to take you to church.

She tells me worship in the sunshine

by the seashore,

in the desert,

with laughing girls in singing halls.

Deadweight lifter,

synchronicity sister,

Holy shapeshifter, please,

bring me to my knees.

She tells me no second date I love yous

I promise.

You’d be the first.

Look close.

How many parsecs to here?

Climb the cosmic distance ladder

to gather the span of celestial bodies

beyond our solar system.

A leap may be near,

A week is a year.

Her hands on my hips,

my kiss on her lips.

My eye on the ball,

the pitch, her call.

You’re not in control.

Space-time takes a toll

‘Cuz she’s the real deal,

the It girl,

the big bang.

Whirlin’ fierce kiss myself,

Im so pretty gravity,

she’s a different kind of sun.

Here, a world of fun, pulling me home.

***

Amber Luckycosmos is an eco-philosopher and Amazon outlander flourishing and fighting for compassion and justice, out beyond nice and normal, in the fields where love and power meet. Her day job as a community college instructor finds her striving to corrupt the youth. At dusk, she rides for the changing blues and the rising moon.

***

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