.
this is how i tend my garden, with humid prayers, light, air; like a ritual, something sacred, these long milk baths & thick heady incense. tresses pinned into two lazy buns.
we know the feminine as holy here.
when i rise i am flush, unfolding, a woman with hips anointed; musk oil & rose scented water. no sound on small bare feet as i move through these empty haunted rooms, turning down lights, turning down lights. i am alone in our bed with this night of old books, this sea of ghost and pillows. these bones with your fingerprints on them. this heart with your heat still in it.
my love, my love. my limbs purring you home. my hands are chanting you.
