The Upper World
Lavender lipstick giving a goodbye.
Compressor snake skin around my thigh,
Like a tapestry I can hang on my wall.
The prophet; the arc moving slow.
Something to worship: something deformed.
She's putris and knows how to harness her glow.
Crumbling, reducing, Aiesr melts the snow.
She gives me a root canal, head on pillow.
She gives me my own thoughts, pills & pressure.
Mambo guides me through a polluted swamp,
Stands with me as I crawl up the tyrant's sleeping throne.
Driving my heel into his scales,
I impale him with his own crown.
Straddling the fussy little man,
I scratch and open his chest.
Emerge; creep forth the cycle of life.
Your hands will no longer drown.