| Dark waves push downward, gently against me---I wade, and let my lids tease. "You know, these fingers have minds of their own." I gauge. Relaxed, jubilant figures, prim & proper, rub small circles into my skin--against my thies, and up above my chest, below my chin. The texture like satin and a minute muscle pulls my lip into a grin. Light slips through lashes between my eyes, where gold shimmer leaks down the bridge of my nose, into my eyeline. The world is endless around me--vivid orchid in lillies that grow around the lake in buchels. The sun bursts, sinking holes into the lucious, undefined canopy. The hues are dense, in sodden shadows that creep only for exploration--backways into tip-top trees, where the houses are built, so far above water. I am an ivory sliver in the gut of a dark, deep beast, but I am still--not to wake myself here. The figures kiss their ditzy utensils, and flutter, glitter, spinder a fake cloth around the sun blanket. My feet point straight up, and my eyes are beginning to glaze over, as the opal dips down into the air, from the wind that passes by with force--a strike of a child, gently stinging. Mushrooms grow about the rocks upward, in lavenders, then dots of chartreuse dripped on their heads boldly. The wind bites mildly, and my mind wonders to movement beneath--water as crystal as tears, a bulb rises from far below. | |
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