sunrise tai chi
the long shadow of each
grain of beach sand

auto Godgod Godgod Godgod correct

Body Work

I am a table. This woman loves the table. Her octopus hands. She ensures that nothing heavy is placed on me. Every knot is polished into yes with the scent of a ripe orange grove. The initials of old lovers wilt like a willow no one owns.

resting pulse a thicket of swaying sea grass

Her tentacles bend and shape me into something new. Curved ribs. Scrolled neck. Arched back. No longer a table, I pluck what I learned of her water sounds. And float in her ink cloud as the tides pull me under.

trigger points loosening a lower octave of violin