magnolia with the glacial eyes
waxing the moon, she kisses
the fruit, sunlit and ripe,
laughing at the day and
drawing the night.
shouting jasmine, floating
in her glacial eyes deep
with oceans, she receives
the branch of day and
builds a nest for night to rest.
if only i could crawl
further into her softness,
fold myself into her ritual
of sensation underwater-like,
perhaps i freed the wind.
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