She sits crosslegged in darkened dunes
Mute silhouette with chisel in hand
Tapping at her granite womb, eggs grains of sand
Obsidian thoughts, malachite memories
Garnetsforblood, a geode soul
Yours for the breaking and the taking.
The temple of sorrows she built is falling
falling is fearsome and lonely but
She wants flower thoughts now
Like the wildish ones growing in grassy dunes
Calling creeping ivy up her spine, twining about her neck
Orchids unfold in her lap
Poppies for eggs, rose petal memories,
Honeysuckle bleeding, blackberries with thorns in her soul
Stone and succulent vie for her life on the sand.
She takes root and waits knowing the word is at hand,
And she is
Beautiful in the eye of the honeybee.