Eat the seed of blue and it grows in you.
Am I awake or asleep?
Unworthiness a salt upon my tongue,
as Blue draws near, a sphere of light
so tall I cannot see her face.
But her shoulders stretch wide—no wonder
they call them wings.
My words, blue swallows, dart across her deepening dress.
Not—What ocean do you carry on your hip?
What heaven do you hail from? What country,
But, Where does the moral world begin?
Leaning over the earth in me, the birth of me,
she answers space with time: not where but when inner and outer light are one…
My legs still pressed against the ground, my cheek upon her hem
until the dawn.