Ugh, I’m incredibly late, but here’s my selection for National Poetry Day: a young poet I discovered on tumblr whose blog still eludes me. As soon as I find her I’ll let you know!
When death reached out its hand, you should have cowered. When you felt the flames of hell licking at your insides, you were not supposed to draw closer to the fire.
I watched you disembowel the Earth, saw you pluck flowers from your mother’s garden and gouge your fingers into its open wounds, trying to pry secrets out from the soil.
Everything green started to shrivel and die when I entered the meadow, but you didn’t flinch away; instead you kissed me voracious, like I was something dark you’d tugged out of reluctant soil.
I wanted your hands, still caked in dirt, pressing into my naked back. I thought you’d understand me. Both of us wanting what we shouldn’t.
I know your mother must have warned you about gods like me. Tell her I am not a selfish lover. Tell her how I kneel at your altar and crush the berries of your hips into wine. That I worship you. That we spread each other open like flowers blooming in the night.
You wanted to see what paradise looked like drenched in moonlight, so I brought you home with me. When you stood before the gates of hell, all the beasts lowered their heads and bowed at your feet.
Everything I have belongs to you — my wife, my queen. You are so much flesh and blood, so much heaving, pulsing, breathing life.
You make the death in me tremble. I am forever yours.
Anita O (via closeyoureyes-breatheslow.tumblr.com)