Free

Saints marionette territorial hummingbird persistence

Slowing dart and hover to floral respect of feminine stamina

Nectar spilling sunken sonar song of blue and grey wavelengths

Mimicking night winds that labyrinth the dunes

Where fire bellied clouds crown peaks of pampas grass in bow

Is it not the home of my soul?

Where’ve we been?

What’ve we seen?

    Rusted hinges.  Gas tank static.  Auburn hued dash.

True north compass swaying fertile grasses

Salvation’s secret in gilded dawn spilling caladium spade inebriate

—Tarnishing shadows — Earthen crawl laughter—

I remember snow salve on rose rash

Thorns bleeding—Fingers puncturing

The sting…the burn — The praise for silent strength…for silent healing

Seeded lens photography in the blink of my eye

—the faded denim and worn rivet copper styling

You asked for the world through my eyes

All I’ve ever longed is in the pulse of life threaded palms

My neck aches where your tongue bent me

My head throbs the pulse of a liberated heart

—cindered touch of finger thievery upon my breasts…you tattoo them in webbing…fingers splaying security

Roamer of dream scrawled rails, free willing…

…splintered toes…

…evergreen sewn gashes…

…spider filament braided lashes binding visions from within sleepy conversations…

Oh, the insanity—

Nerves reanimating in orgasms that remind me of my cosmic origins

What had we been?

What sense had we sacrificed to meet the end?

                 —to meet at the end?—

          Free

E.A. O'Connell