Igneous Lavandula

Ladle your lids
with this white-lily mystic.
Fall deeply, follow.
The ground's weeping

viridian blades.
Glow worms gnaw softly
the zaftig trees, and

16 moments before night 

is always.

Canyons curve and slope,

the red sediment stamps our feet

because we're turned sideways

and flying.

Humidity sighs.
we're Non-existent.

i emerge from the mountain.

i emerge from the deep water belly

of my mother's womb.

i blast into fields of lavender and sage,

only to hang them dry with hot breath

from my lioness insides.

i am the spark tiptoeing on fire.
i am ripping off the covers
to coruscate
on wooden floorboards,
on wednesday mornings.
i am electric in eight feet of snow:
want, calm, and chaos.


e. chayes