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Lilah Clay
Awake
To clasp chrysanthemums
at my chest,
in a rowboat or coffin.
To lie here,
pulling in breath,
aching toward human.
*
My hands fall asleep,
turn into paper
lanterns catching flame.
All the magic
knit into me,
moments unshared,
awake within a wake.
*
On the altar of
vulnerability—
scatter sea salt,
offer cornmeal.
Invent your own prayers
to snag
the departing skirt
of rain
to turn back
and purify.
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