Mawu Amongst Stars
As a perfect scar, is the morning star,
illumed as Hemera asleep and dreamy
upon the breasts of Nyx, cold and homey,
staring, so stoic in gaze, perfect scar.
Of settings and fanta-scenes of my soul
she reminds. Of wild eyes cremating forms
and preserving mummies amid ash storms
she reminds. Of words bleeding from my bowl...
Of a plum, all of her engrained for ay
she reminds. Of hopeless fetish within
sowing on my seed bed any season
She reminds... of Oyin coming so nigh.
As blush fades away, green leaves come alive;
the bluish glow with doves, refills my rive.
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