PINK PEACH POOLS
the sun boils my skin,
melts it off my milky bones into
pink peach pools beneath the
the cheap turquoise sun chair i lay on.
i watch the sky through
the black pits of my eyes,
the symphony of swirling strata-clouds playing
catch up with the solar-beams
until finally, the earth cools.
then the water comes.
the pit-pat-echoes hit
the tops of the trees with anticipation before reaching me,
sizzling when they ease my scorched skeleton and
fill the chasms of my skull.
then,
just as i am about to leave my twisted paradise
a brown-sugar bird flits down into the
empty sockets of my eyes.
his tender little wings tickle my heart
as he washes himself in my velvety soul.
when he leaves,
a part of me flies with him.
i sit up then, water clinging to
my fresh lashes.
i take my fingers,
trace the plains of my cheeks, my chest, the soft folds of my tummy.
my body is covered in new wild-strawberry-fleshed skin.