Her feet smelled of saffron rice
and her palms, of sweet incense and thyme.
Every inch of her flesh was a tea ceremony,
Within her chest she held a tenderness of living breath,
and her toes, the dust of unsettled earth.
I expanded with giving,
my soul open to light,
my breath honored, knees humble.
Between the blades of a heavy hearted back,
And the bones of a heavy handed soul,
I felt the radiance of lasting softness,
laying in stillness
as “here” swelled itself open.
Hands full of flesh and given nothing more than
the gentle ease of a currency with no value
but that which she carries on the bus
between vacancy signs and milky starlight,
I danced like one would without legs–