It is fascinatingly probable
God balanced, protected, recompensed
how I feel misplaced in the confinements
to the vessel, in a biological
femininity even more being said,
by shaping that body as a speech
in my structure and palette embedded
of nature’s casts, messages‘
endearing faced:

I am put in a sunflower’s shift
when bearing a heat with caramel toning,
in the skin,
swift golden towel ‘round the
form naked,
shoulders
and all other petite
through that standing strong
like a sword’s leather hilt,
and eyes with hair of tenderly
made browns with lights and darks,
as freckles shining scattered,
with their origin from Gold arriving,
or at last the very nutrient
dark centre by seeds posed.

When sodden, it is a mangrove then,
the caramel whole now slick
yet strongly dense as its roots,
like when I get myself firmly stuck
on feet like double arrow
spread limbs
and like mahogany shade
stand reading images.

Or there’s at last and at wind
the cherry blossom:
my thoughts and sensing presence
are so beloving that they
emanate pink in passing,
just as it’s flowers with no fruit,
my top, a crown,
swaying branches,
irregular protruding.
I bloom so dearly with my shading,
I could almost kiss like leaves,
like they do with me.

Wish you could see me, this,
such loving dear sight to be.
Like slick, promising, calm own river.
Alas, an eerie beige coat that flutters
with child dreams