RITUALS

I. Camouflage

This exposed nerve, which feels like that moment before orgasm, in that place where pain sits before being transformed into pleasure,

reminds me:

that I have changed with the years and the miles, as I strain against the revolution of the earth; that
my mind takes longer to reach conclusions, years longer to decide; that
I have taken up mantras, chants and rites for protection; that
my torso, a gyroscope, defies gravity, laughs at physics; that
I have changed with many rituals, and my body has become

the site of chameleon greetings.

II. Fade

Every seven years they fly out from the ground, hold each other in tight embrace, and dance the dance of the dying. Frenzied knots blur the
moon's face, gauze-like wings invisible

like me standing against your doorway hoping for an invitation but you motion to the wind or the oncoming summer storm
freezing me out My heart falls like countless gossamer layers
after twenty four hours of intricate ritual which ensures another generation will grow under ground

Waiting.




III. Strike

Oh, how easy to ( )

and bruise skin --
a slight darkening
a quick spreading...

blood through broken vessels,
free as water flows between cracks in pottery

glazed in the sun, or fired in a pit

Oh, how I wish I were able to ( )

in the middle of the night, tracing
rivulets of ants marching
from the outside wall through the window
to the kitchen, to the pantry

a virulent army invading my inner chambers.