WHEN RECKONING
by Despy Boutris
When cornfield. When cathedral.
When creaking floorboards
and open windows. When want
rivers through me, escape
into the morning mist,
stomp down to the bank,
try to drown in the lake
and call it baptism. Wish
to wipe my lips of it,
this desire to ripen in the bowl
of her mouth, musk
and staggering breath. When lying
on the floor of the barn.
When thighs turns to braille.
When skipping stones
into the stream. When the air tastes
of straw. When looking up
at the sky, the rising sun,
the dust motes constellating the air,
fingers thrust into the earth,
dirt invading the thumb sliced open
while cutting a peach.
When slaughter. When palms sting
with wood-splinters,
an excuse to touch.
When venus-bone to venus-bone,
a groan. Silt soiling my hands.
When bare feet squelch fallen apricots.
When she asks how her mouth tastes,
say wildfires.
When smoke escapes the mouth
of the forest, walk toward it.