Blue brick stone eyes,
like four leaves, I am in luck.
Liquid doesn’t drip from rock.
Not all skin is the same.
Some grow into cat-o-nine tail,
but you…
you douse poison like a God.
I am witness,
without religion,
without faith,
without hope,
out of the blue,
brick stone eyes
came to me
an old idea –
a different skin
growing on me.
Uncharted territory! Galilean moons
orbit, satisfied by discovery.
Jupiter waits for your sounds,
do you hear her calling?
She dreams of your sleep,
cracked by early morning light,
pink lips opening wide,
new trees cherried by blossom
Seasons have changed.
Her great red storm hovers
like a tailed boa.
You could lay on her naked thoughts
or wear her like a shadow.
She waits, an elliptical path away,
for your sun to rise steady
on her moon.
Wake up!
Do you hear her call for you?
maggiemaeijustsaythis 