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
And I am strong.
Copyright (c) 2002 by Christine Hoff Kraemer