Jael

my horns have begun to grow,
Enlil, though
they are not as I would have
imagined them to be
my face is crowned
with cactus-like needles

my forehead
a forest of antennae
between my temples

I preen upon
a mountain beneath
braying to
the blushing moon
above

whilst meditating, I
sit with head raised skyward
so as to extend
my conscious cable
to the electric atmosphere
of your body, as
my blooming horns
sprout filamnt fans

I am
a sensory node
rooted
to the earth
below
your great sweeping arms
the four winds
whistling through my gables
pollen on
your breath
the seasons;
your many harvests

your heart
the dual properties of water
both healing, and destroying

the very heavens
a deluge
for your employ

Lord Enlil, God of all that flies
with this vessel I thee honor

your servant
Jael

© Emerys Watchel, 2016 All rights reserved.

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