The water inside of me
creates a riptide, a vortex of brewing.
A dangerous seething weapon.
The liquid that I am
wills my bones to rise from deep
within their marrow.
I have no absence of worry,
I feel no absence of tension.
We are a clinging species,
a kind who moves with a smog ridden
veil over their emerald eyes.
An all-smothering kind
that is leading our mother to atrophy.
The muscles that propel me seem to ache
more frequently, as
fists clench with ease I feel my insides stir,
yet the squirming jolts suddenly cease.
I pause.
A rush of stillness leaches into me,
I pause.
Irises fixate on two palms
Cupping nothing but the air surrounding.
I am reminded by this familiar sight,
I am reminded that my body resides in this
fading space.
I am reminded that I am,
That I was made to move.
So I do just that.
I fling myself from moment to moment
Tip-toeing round’ the latent bits of green dampness I find,
and residing there for hours on end.
The liquid that I am rises from deep within,
wills the marrow in my bones to
Run,
to activate my tactile senses and
meld my naked body into the
ground below me.
I will nourish you,
Reign me in, eat me whole,
But first let me dance for you.