She of female colour
works a cherry path
tripping rainbow wind and flaunting a song,
the nightingale rapture…
A bountiful traveller, her bowl swimming,
a vagrant obstreperous kite.
This leonine hue, this invigorated sunrise, she is yolk.
Woman spills from her delicate fingers,
impolite yet forgiven as it falls.
She of 1000 clouds and velvet womb,
a mountain of compulsion.
a bolt of flesh silk