The-wisdom- is- her

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Mother: You are a hyperbole of the moon and the star, a hubris of soliloquy.

Like floating wax, you extend your skin to my mouth, forming chains of bewilderment

chains of congruence     chains of mammoth frills of hope.

You lie in the darkest of hours with a sparkle of holy water on your chin, the pink chin,

the orange chin, the grey chin where all the clandestine secrets are packed between

your teeth and the parched lips, you give blossom to my hair extending to my curves

the scarlet, metamorphosis pattern of face

Opulent serenity lies in your blood, I see my reflection

Time, death or a crooked  tree, you put embroidery incumbent to survive the veracity,

harsh or simple.

Objects around you become opaque, hollows of orange skies

squares of white ice, the eye of Satan

I absorb all the conjectures knitted in the black of  your eyes

to the stars in your magical touch

the fidelity to produce a seed: a seed I shall carry

a seed I may fail

your liquid, pale truth of surviving I inhale in the morbid tales of summer

only to form the web of ink and paper burning inside your motionless,

sturdy, an amalgamation of Supreme Ant  intoxicating, all pouring inside

basket of void, dulcet, a white star.



 

Auburn circle

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Auburn circles of faith, drooling hope in my throat

choking my senses to deliver the web of matched periphery of dawn to dusk.

I am hanging from the top of colossal tree, where children and lovers come

to bask in the mirth of my golden shade,

My sapphire corset lying in the turbid laps of nature

under the paintings of blues and purple

above the yellow, purple neighbours

in the memory of Olympic soil

I cherish the glamour, the petrichor

the crisscross on my head,

the elysian corners of hugging my pits

I am soaked in the essence that fascinates this moment,

As I am An Auburn circle  of desire,

A daydream sweet pie, A hot ball of shines and flicker.

A solitude in everything.