She tears through the woodland floor

Her breaths a frosty whisper to the night


She strides, skin taught

Cool marble, red satin
Ancient oak
Burning eyes

Her dress is on fire


She was there, in that place

Where dust turned to galaxies


She was there, under the ocean floor


She is carried in every howling tear

In every snowflake and outstretched tongue

In shaking trembling loins and bitten thighs

In every newborn’s beating heart


She was the one who painted the blood

On the wolf’s lips


She aches to be seen

She yearns to move in shadows

Her name has long been forgotten

Her name is known by all


Temple stones

Melted gold 

A chalice tumbled on the ground

A lone oud plays out to desert skies


Her name does not matter

Her name is sacred to the stars


A tangle of branches, thorns and pine

Caked in mud, glistening thirst

The forest calls her home


She pierces her body upon raw bark

Coated in resin, lust, and nail
Tearing into the night
Delighting in the scent of death


Honey sandstorm eyes

Glistening black

A rumbling howl like a summer’s storm


Every tongue, every autumn breeze,
every moonlit road
Every constellation of eye and soul
Entwined, enraptured, entranced


Oh yes, she has many names

And I pledge to taste them all