energy consumption

Sophie Mo

my hands are blessed with the lurid kiss of golden rays
spilling into the center of my palm in dapples and so i think,
perhaps this is how it feels to have a star in my hold,
but when the day twirls away in a dress of blood orange that
takes the rouge from beads of dusk as a whirlpool of obsidian
drips over the arc of the world in glistening facets of black,
i chase after its tune, fireworks under my feet, fingers grappling
at the hem of undulating folds while i run across the skies in a streak
of midnight comet, splitting into two with my right hand reaching
toward the welkins, gilding my teeth when i swallow;
then i will awake at dawn with tender soreness in my legs
and there will be aureate crumbs in my throat that turn
turn my body into an altar, something worth desire,
presenting myself as a child of the sun