Lean out into the afternoon,
sip long hard sips of air,
let your eyes flow through your hair, the earth

of your core, your crown,
falling water and flowers,
wrought with confusion.

Lilies are white,
her robe, adorned, and she
scarce: that look of hers.

She keeps counting flowers falling
about her face. She is in a strange home,
in a strange white bed. She is being ravaged

And then awakens. A skunk, her furry pet
accepts touch as she accepts
fretful scent. He leaves

on his merry way. Bosom, bended arm, burns
blue flame, she says, i will teach myself.
A white bird sees her naked.