This begins at my toes—

the heat. They curl orange

until kneecaps melt.

Skin strikes, like flint

on grass, brown and waiting.

This sweet boil engulfs—

awareness in my throat,

clenches. Warmth can

destroy, char, ruin;

I know this.

I burn different,

in soft, heated scents

that stop seconds.

I am third degree,

rounded, full, open.

I am slender blue and red.

this is the core of life—

Strongest Creation,

Woman Made.


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