My body moves
as it moans –

pain is present; care is present.

Tongue of fire kissed by the breath,
alive in this body
every shape a neural message
bowed to its versatile theater.
My soul tends the pot that cooks upon it
while the full moon mixes
with the flames of grief and longing,
praise and remembrance,
birthing destiny.
I tend the fire with song
and the song tends me
with more fire.

A snake whose only rest
is in the heart, the tongue’s
core coil heats and distills the water
into something palatable.
It wraps tight around what is true,
some justice or injustice or inspiration,
some sperm or egg, catalyzes sound
and readies the dark in everything
til it boils the ocean and wakes me up.

Tongue of fire connects its way
through hips and belly,
throat and pussy, nipples and hair
blazes as an agent of protection,
guardian of boundaries,
truth-teller, leader, creator
fixed within the circle that embraces it.
X marks the spot of now and instinct,
of knowing by exploring
feelings incoherent,
of not running away.
Nonsense is essence
sirened from the deeper well.
In each and every utterance
unleashed
my voice sounds out
I am here,
for however long it takes
to burn.