curved as a lip pouting for a kiss
sponge of sunlight,
my tiniest
filaments stand in ceremony
to your song of color
insects decide to walk the labyrinth
of your perfumed path
are you tickled by these
cellular inspectors
sipping your sweet wine of particulates
would you have preferred to be a robin
burdened with the sky’s
most unique song
do you wish you were the moon
a whole planet of petals
with an atmosphere of cologne
a dolphin bathing in the coral medicines
of an oceanic garden?
you itch
when you are closed
shy & anxious
unconcerned with weather
death or dementia
you are the earth’s soldier of love,
desire
yet––what do you know of it?
From Martian: The Saint of Loneliness. Copyright © 2022 by James Cagney. Published by Nomadic Press. Reprinted by permission of the publisher.