Body

 

I hear a lot
about embodiment.

But what if the molecules

of your pituitary

are made of galaxies

so distant that their light

is only now arriving

as your flesh?

What if they are

hanging in a spacious

ballroom of awareness

like a chandelier?

Wouldn't you begin

to waltz

for no reason?

Look for a partner,

anyone, anything.

Bow to this crocus,

who wears her

heirloom crystals

and her mother's

purple gown.

She is so still and new,

just risen from

this fertile tomb,

the Imbolg caesura

between Winter

and Spring.

Now enter her silence.

Speak these words

only in your heart,

"Shall we dance?"