Was it a blue goddess who bent over, gracing us
Through heavenly light?
Or was such grace always prevalent, by
Her sheer nature?
I feel as though it doesn’t matter.
I sense change is exhibited
Constant and temporal nature of my skin,
Shedding, dying, birthing itself all over.
Goddesses need not preoccupy themselves
With the slough of my elbows, or
The sweat of my forehead.
The child seats himself as foretold,
By the consequence or fornication or,
The sweet reward of love,
Whichever you see fit.
Stars may shift as
Bones may shift.
All according to laws as predictable
As a sun;
Up and down;
Down and up.
I take solace in the flakes of my skin;
For they are as profound as my soul.
Particles of an arched beauty,
Stretched in cosmic stance,
Beckoning the tides of