(This is the reason I haven't been posting. I can't finish this section.)
3. Air - Hunting For The Queen
finally, leaves make lace of light, thinning
trees reveal corpulent clouds purposeful
as a trundling chancellor delivering sour advice
above a bright alfalfa field like a ballroom
with swaying crepe paper poppies, garish sunflowers,
purple thistles prickling solidarity, fragile white cosmos
quiver as lazy Painted Ladies push proboscis deep tasting
their nectar, the humming muscles of a doe
relax. I have no bow. I am hungry.
my filthy skin itches more than that churning
organ. entranced. to see the entire sun!
damp wicks away as I walk. my clothes
stiffen. grass prickles. the dew renews, I kneel.
taste the fresh. beneath
relief, my mother scratches my
hippocampus like swallowing a diamond.
waiting for it to pass without tearing
and leaking, oozing detritus and freeing
that hot pressed sparkling precious bone
to stop my heart. I am being
watched. sunlight on a telescope lens reveals
a blind in the tree line. a dainty verdigris cooper castle