ritual

we were but girl-children

to the deathless moon

in this heavy-lidded woodland

eyes like soapy lanterns

twitching in the cradle-dust

still, we voyaged in

joined like dollhouse mountains

my bloodstone-sister was an untamed altar

at which they encroached, wept like ivy

unhinged men & their fresh shoulders

who would pile at her godforsaken toes

to revere, to wide-eyed pray, to boast

a ritual for veneration

that would never starve

still, she dared in

i was but a prying mortal girl & out-of-body

fingering sorries inside a waning pouch

i scooped from meat-faced vultures

dripping the diamond scent of

a grey folklore

which i bittersweetly appointed

on my melancholy own

still, i delved in

i don’t believe we ever emigrated

from the royal purple cold, unpolished wild

or the leather harness of the unclothed bark

of yolky-sun, of pine-fragrant wrangles of trees

here silver-winter comes & time to

urge patient gods to bare one more

love-seat, for me & death

---

words = samantha lucero 2016 ©
image = not mine.