Solar flares, deep space chambermaid stabbing her
molten mop in contempt.
There are so many squares that field her space,
sifted afire.
Tearing out rays of her hair to be, and be
beautiful...to see her strands descending lit, the
stress level of an unforgettable goddess.
She yearns head-over-heels, burns out her core
with blinding reason.
Not once was she afforded a mirror to know her
space.
Wiry stick figures subsist under her--fatalistically
emotive.
Summed up, as water broken, transparent as the
life seen through.
What pagan rite has shimmied out her soul, what
serpent slid her warmth sane?
Do not site dawn or dusk, mistake her outer life
for an inner one!
Do not presume the burden of her focal point, her
light hangs overhead swaying interrogation.
Caught perfectly for Platonic cave or other...
in utero, her light a stillborn beauty--as alive as
ever once away from her.
She's up, burning...console her, her blood is boiling--
she wants to be accounted for, to outgrow that coo.
Only to surprise once and for all a stone's underbelly.