Wednesday, June 11, 2014

To Wet your scales: NOtes on missing you from Lānaʻi

To Wet your Scales: Notes on Missing you from Lānaʻi

Pressing my lips together
I remember your shedding skin
The way your scales clatter as they fall to the floor around us
I pull you
Gently with one hand
Tighten my wrist around your waist
I want to inhale these pieces before they fall
Before the new body is covered and dazzling around you

As you shed
Yesterdays falling from your body
Like water dripping off cold wax
You remind me
To love a moʻo wahine
One must always be prepared to shift
And take shape

I am not so flexible
So I hang on
Hoping not to be left behind
My fire dries you
Iridescent flakes, the shape of un-kept promises shake and fall to our feet

The closer I come
The more
You dance into new shell,
And I wonder
How to touch you
And not evaporate your wet
To pull you inside of me
And not take
But build