Mia

From dirt I rose into
the heat of the
burning flames at your bedside.

Your home—not lost
but on the run
no longer so scorned by our bright sun—
flies lower than a murder of crows 

I left
then was leaving 
when I was told not to

but you let so much of a river pass
by--escaping your treacherous
burning eyes

so I bled down the bank
to where the golden dew shone
like fiery teardrops

What has left will not
return
which is to say
you will remain:

beautifully
devastated.

 

The wind
Is at my back
And the sails 
at my mercy

But I was gifted sight:
Two eyes
Again 
Last night.

Blue 
They said
Like the ocean
Like the sea

Still, I can go
Nowhere—

and tears
will come again—
still scalding hot—
for the sparks snuffed out
and those that 
burn out too soon.

I am a woman

which is to say
I am wholly myself:
so large I can kiss her ...

which is to say
I am violently peaceful,
that is,
I am unarmed.