Let me glow for you as purple glows for bees: see
me, see. Breathe, be
in time with me.
What is it you take when you
hold up the dark shape, then
turn away?
I feel, though I stand, I’ve been hunted, cut
and millioned into
squares. Just
be with me.
Let my gesture
reach you, with nothing hard
between, only the penetrability of air: my lashes
move the molecules
to touch your pupil’s lens;
my exhalations tingle
your lips. This
is our delicate tryst.
There were years I had such fawnlike
hope I would be seen as
a being beyond
my cells, held in the heart as a child
holds wild apples
in her lifted
skirt: held, not captured. But so many
would-be masters
sought the image only, savored it, until
I, suffering to take
even a single
step, nevertheless
began my ceaseless
wandering. My footsoles are
exposed, not encased in hooves.
Merciless Earth—
I feel her genius
through my toes, turning me how
she wills. I cannot get away
from life; I
surrender to it now
like this soil yields to my steps.
Until dirt will finally bury me
it gulps the many
seeds I press. These rhizomes
send up shoots and stems, sentences
suffused with juice.
Can you read the hours
I’ve spent?
Please don’t merely look just to say
you’ve seen, but
see. And when I jump and clear the fence, then
vanish into depths of aspens
dotting, with their shivered coins,
the further grove’s
eternal
pine, recall me
with memory only, with dream.
Let your reverie make me
chromatic: a black-and-yellow
humming
among the ultraviolet salvia.
Copyright © 2025 by Rose DeMaris. Published with the permission of the author.