She grinds my bones into fine flour
she bakes a fancy cake of it and sings
from coast to coast of her conquest
of my devotion from east to west
slices me with the sharpest word
serves me up to a shining world.
She turns the music up and up and up
until the walls of my house shake
my haunted almost dilapidated head
swallows with its eyes the whole horizon
with its grateful hair on fire shakes
with the shimmy of a shining world.
She of the swirl she invisible
behind her hot and perseiad shower
she with hands in clouds sculpting
a shapeless box to put me in
from where I read her incantations
in the lines on the shining earth.
I say she she has taken it
as her own name from any other
woman, girl or sorceress
I say she the feel of it on my tongue
melts all scorn and evaporates
names leaving the earth shining.
mrsorenson's verses 