-less, less-
(inspired by Eastbound, Soon by Natalie Diaz)
here, she’s
updating
the internal feather-
-less, less-
young thing in me;
synthesis, she’s
joy
& blinking-hour,
lounging half-cloaked
in gold & brown flutter, flutter –
(no integral simply)
gold light trickling down her armpit:
one branch to breast and bare abdomen,
(unspools there in sweeps
and purling surges down, down
to swallow t-cock, to swallow tender thighs, calves, bare feet);
the other falls long to shoulder, to bicep
and surges across the nook
inside her elbow. from here
(nonplussed thru
Sight the stars’ set order, the
holy asterism signals; sashay of Return or simple destiny
spinning)
thick dapple to just birthmark,
spitting along the soft underside
of her forearm for the collection,
slipping into her palm, her palm
that gulps the light under fulgurating fingers.