Butter
Tell me about the oceans, dear
And the night sky in wake of the moon.
When I first met you, you were a hurricane, storming
the sea salt spraying off of you onto me ,until,
my clothes weighed me down
like an anchor on a vast, pirate ship.
I remember the way your whispers roared
in my ears like the crash of thunder. heart splitting sound.
Tell me about the mountains, dear one,
the jagged tipped teeth, bumpy along your arms,
you were my rolling hills,
your eyes painted sunsets made of gold.
When you are gone, don’t forget how the moon shines,
or how the rain falls like mercury poison, baby,
flooding the crackly streets in silver.
One day under the green crumple leaves
I asked myself “was it worth it?”
all those hurricanes made of salt and butterfly wings
The storm was gone and my soul was spinning ,tornadoes,
like a cyclone lodged in butter
and I knew that without wild wind storms
I was an empty mason jar,
soft colors glinting in the light. empty, reborn
Have you ever thrown a glass?
remnants strung along the ground
shimmering like diamonds.
Fill me with glitter and ice crystals.
Sometimes people need hurricanes
and the dark silence that fills the in between ,aching,
feels like the air crushing your lungs,
instead of expanding them.
Don’t ever regret loving a hurricane ,dear one,
Don’t ever regret being a cyclone.