she opens my hands
my dress
my brokenness
as i collapse inside the winged
starry womb.
smooth sacred alone
in the darkness
bending as shadows
stretch, asleep
resting on the other side of the moon
in me, whisper the mouth of spring meadows.
i drink from her, taste like her,
lie down
my head into the softness
she says:
let me
dismantle you
discover you.
the veins and the rivers
humming softly toward
whatever is next, and i
offer up my secrets, breathe upon the petal
of her skin,
the glass and the scars
the shame and the pain and i
motion alive through tears
fall aching
my way
into
yes.
Allison Marie Conway 