Her pout and her silence
Is a mystery to them
As they are drawn towards her heat
And her slick slopes,
Their daredevil nature willing her caves
To reveal treasures
As she swallows them
And clenches them,
Quivering as they quiver in her trap,
Lost to her unknown depths
The heatwave of an uncrossed leg hit them.
She is a god, surely,
For she grants both life and death
And creates in empty spaces
And promises unchartered lands
In a world where all is conquered.
They fall to their knees
In a begging position before the spread vault
In prayer and permission.
The jewels and the jungle
Buried beneath the fountainhead
Siren from the darkness
And coat their tips.
A god by her promise, and deliverer in the act,
As they throw pennies in fountains
She forges rivers
And hope for them
In her little deaths.
Pain scorches the tundra
When the rivers run red
And her promise is put behind her back
As she becomes human again;
She sees merely a shadow of herself
When she gazes in the mirror at the
Cotton chain dangling between her thighs
Marking her utility for creation
When all she seeks is destruction.
What power can be had when she cannot wet their soul;
What magic trick is left when she cannot swallow whole?