you've got these cracked old teeth,
nestled at the corners of a whistle briskered mouth
collecting delicate spivulets of spit
(And pines collect dew in the morning.)
your gnarled old ass swings and jerks,
baltering you in contentric circles
(this year, diamond cut planes of direction collapsed
into shagged raggy edges)
your round little feet
send you shambling gently into me
(And a round little bumblebee
miscalculates,
bouncing sofly against a flower)
your ragged old ears, sweet like soft, like you are soft,
flick towards me
and lady lady lady-
I Honor You.
Shay: Californian/Ramaytush Ohlone Land, any pronouns. Most writing is done in an ongoing struggle to define "wild".
