Courting Summer

(a fragment)

You are the water bearer,
Carried on wind,
And I would woo you, love.

I hide my gaze
In dark glass so
No one can guess,
But for the minstrels,
Who love a show.

Seeds grow fat
In black dirt
And you sway
Like a dancer when you walk.
I would kiss both
Your juicy hips
And bring you all
These jars
To fill.

Yet again I fail
At feminine.
We bring cold water
And melting sun —
Soft speckled shoulders
Like eggs in a nest.

We would drink deep
From your lips, love.
Gray and unseen
We were never meant
To be so hard-hearted.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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