Cloud 9
Propped up on my knees;
Liberation. An
emerald serpent, coming to
Her own essence. You,
Strong and sturdy. A support
beam of light, radiating
With intensity.
Unified by whatever the
moon is doing that night.
Together by the
Direction of the sun.
The inside of my eyelids
Are speckled with sunspots.
A delightful pattern: red,
magenta, orange.
Ah, the cobra’s dance.
Moths sink into our flesh like
Canine teeth. Tongues coil.
Flickering. Shimmering.
Red, magenta, orange-- peeling
like homegrown tangerines.
The sign says to swallow
the sunshine hard. The serpent,
elated. The beam, in all
ways, is sturdy. Yes,
a continuum of becoming.
We are grounded on
cloud nine.











