a red liquid line,
running deft and sanguine
like subway cars
from my belly to my mouth.
And my whole life is its echo,
like the pause after cathedral bells
proclaiming their place in the sky.
Its not angry,
and the sound bounces on my skin
and past my fingers into a future I'm grasping for
with only sonar to guide me.
I am a voodoo doll.
You can trace the places in my body
where I will go and love and hurt and bruise
easily though I am cut
from a cloth
that is tough like elephant skin.
I am a mountain
-- oh yes, I am a mountain.
The clouds are my blanket
and my wrinkles are my mother's sleeve.
I will hold the valley of your shadows and depths
and river of tears.
You will not hear my scream rising
like a red snake.
My face will flush
and you'll think its the sun come to kiss goodbye.