When I am in my place
and the world is quiet
I know the body flows
like Earthy warriors
wrapping 1, 2, 3 on the window of God.

She sits there, elusive,
masochistically questioning
the chemistry of all that Is:
a train-wreck consisting
of a rabid mouse
in slow-motion quicksand.

She knows that wisdom is her keeper.
She is sane and soft like water.
She loves unconditionally,
squirming delicately back to the top.
She's quick like honey
and soft like glue.