Out of Flesh

Out of Flesh


She is furled inside,

 A hot green place,

                        Flushed with dew.




                                    But flowing knots of ears vibrate,

And hear

                        The yellow singing.

                                                                                    The shaking sound of golden drumming begins

                                                            To tug her soft frame,

Not yet a body,

Out of quiet marrow.


                                                                                                            Those dusty fingers, so insistently teasing

                                                                                                Her wings into limbs

                                                                                    Her tails into thighs,

                                    And the flowing coil of fire

into something red and cloying.

She beats against the heavy form,

To be free and in the dark again.


Then a tall helix of clacking shapes,

Bubbles forced into brittleness

                                                            Stacking like bars in a cage. She tries to swim away into forests of blood

                                                                                                But her claws are fingers and will not scratch through heaven

                                                                                    Anymore. And light suddenly,

 it digs inside to touch her,

tickling its way and leaving holes

to be filled with eyes.


Air pours and scalds and hisses through

Making veins,

And burning capillaries.

                                                            Naked and blind, she follows the singing.


There is the sharp earth,

And the dripping wound in his side.







8 thoughts on “Out of Flesh

  1. This is incredibly beautiful, and a very interesting and mystical depiction of the creation of Eve. Whether or not a person accepts a literal reading of this part of the creation story, you’ve certainly made it into something beautiful. Your descriptive poetry is really magical, darling. So glad you found my blog so that I could discover yours.

  2. it took me a few reads; I thought I’d witnessed the birth of a flower from earth, and then I read Helena Hann-Basquiat’s comment and went bashful back again to the text … oh yes; now flowers don’t quite fit;

    more than just a bunch of lines, this grows

  3. Wow, I feel as if I have just been born, what an amazing poetic description of life forming and yet fighting against the loss of heaven, but not able to resist the inevitable. Strong stuff.

    1. thanks! It took a long time coming, the words wouldn’t hang together for a long time. But I guess all poems are a little bit like birthing – they come at their own pace, sometimes painfully!

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