interstitial awakenings

outside our window

I stand near the edge of a cliff
and feel the muscles between
my thighs weaken
in this moment
something in me rejoices

I cut my skin and watch
the blood slowly trickle
reveling in the smell of it,
the redness of it
the LIFE of it

drinking in the sight of
moonlight on freshly cut grass
or bare skin
makes my spirit quiver with joy

seeing the carcass of a deer long dead
near the edge of a creek–
and laying in the vacated bed of a deer
along that same creek
letting my cares sink down into the Mother

the exhilaration of taking off in a jet
engines rumbling
our bodies soaring through the sky

laying with my lover watching
a lightning storm at dusk
and feeling the electricity
in the air

the smell of sex lingering on my skin
or the sharpness of desert sage

these moments–
these interstitial awakenings,
this merging of spirit and flesh,
–are my ambrosia

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