doesn’t she light you up?

a flint to your jagged sleeve

flames of delirious eternity as if

your shirt was never hung

to dry, gentle

on a clothesline, crisp

and captive

like she was never ferried over

dozens of rivers to

find herself

lonely at the foot of your bed

a limp tentacle wrapped

loose and ambivalent

slipping out into

hesitant glowing morning

the hooves and hot breath

whispers of protection

talismans sat at my door

a window wide and waiting

fresh game slung over the shoulder

(it still smells like blood)

i wait to descend the stairs

(it doesn’t frighten me anymore)

my chariot awaits me, it’s hungry with

a sharp row of teeth and

creaking saddles

a soft place to land

a handkerchief around your throat

and these men like to play tug of war

so i tie myself into knots

rosy and still,

i wind and i tether

for

every moon is spent in a different

dominion, the beasts circling

for another wound to lick

whether i am in the tower

twisting and tortured

or emerald hips like

saplings, treetops

my skin is green

feathers hiding me from the

bright light of day

i’ve always been a jealous

woman, i want forever

in paradise

forever

in elysium

a spitting image of

grace, of a god dangling

stars thinly scattered

and new

i’ve always been

a woman

in paradise

- Violet Maxwell