many chrysanthemums, one duck

red stream

this is what I came here for--

the tingle of
not knowing--

the creaking thrill
of an opening door

for this
I poured my soul
willingly
into a shell of skin

child
of mystery

look at me--
bare elbows, like wings with no feathers

legs that would make
a tiger laugh...

and see here, this trembling in my chest
that catches my breath

with each rustle
of black shadows

each sharp streak of light
in a stranger's eyes

and yes, I came here to stumble, to lose my footing
for the earth to yawn open
with my feet on the edge,
defying the moment

when the drum, this fierce sound inside me
beating, beating,
would stop

the red stream harden
and the last drops fly, frozen, into the night

do you envy me now--
gods
in your milk-white sky

that indescribable tingle
of not knowing

I have it