Mente Mezcla

 —> Tightened grip on the bow   Head on swivel No capacity for dreamy drivel  Graphic avenger  Novice huntswoman Apples, deer hearts, daggers, and mirrors  Looking for  Any sign:  Tea leaves Fortune cookie  Shooting star:  That she shouldn’t release  The arrow.  Her back: a toned, tuned Maple violin  Also bowed, always arching  Chest out, nipples rigid  The taught space  Between her fingers,  Sweat proof, carnelian resin grip  Ready to strike  But she does not loose  Instead she points down,  turns tail and mane  Making her way for higher ground  Flood gates are opening And hooves aren’t fins 

Prizes, consolatory ones.   I can name a few The big ones are treasures beyond riches  They are named love, hope, dreams  And in their eyes,  Our humanity reflects back  at us,  —the best gift. No matter the mood:  They are accessible  So You open the chest  You expect Pandora,  We are trained for the worst, after all:  Fight or flight, all a fright     But instead, you get  —festival of the highest order  A loud moonless night  engulfed by the Milky Way   And Earth’s buzzing darkness   At once dangerous with its  Silvery lichen,  Vulnerable, finally, with its Green, soft night moss Nature’s rave  Our Universal dance  All that is known, the biggest expanse  Laid right there,  bare before your feet  Begging for your touch  But instead of plucking off  The smallest piece,  One star  Or even a twinkle Knowing that’s all you’d get An...

I have a playlist with your initials  Music for a muse It goes from melancholic, to maudlin,  to nostalgic to laughable  Sometimes in one beat, or less Fast as a hummingbird drinking clear  Sugary nectar  Wings flutter  (Many times, it’s a slow oily candle Burning at more than one end Still somehow frenetic, frantic) Like these words I type  That inevitably end in sentences,  Engine purring: you  Over and over again, a bene-addiction Drawing breath in to savor the savior  last syllable, throttle released…  When I am on you, drug of choice I feel safe, in each gear  No matter the speed.   And while I am not a prayerful woman,  I know how to knee-down (As you knew) On each speckle freckle in gravel,  Stardust maps to villages souls travel Until they get it right.