Song for a Bottled Soul

It’s a bright star nestled in my closed fist –

Twinkling, blurred by feeble human sight.

It’s dark lightning shot through breathing bone

And stark desire pressed wet against the light.

With eyes open, it sleeps –

In dreams it stirs, flows out pores, off fingertips,

A flood of sound and spark

In rivulets off my shaking skin.

Speak and sigh and cry out

As under I go, churned by a wheel

Of soundless turning, quick and light.

I am bare

Supine

Unfettered

And I am strong.

Copyright (c) 2002 by Christine Hoff Kraemer