Ascending

Return to the moon.

Move to the edge of / the wood

silver strikes the tips of your toes

blades soft but sharp, cut

Stand and bleed out your womanhood

as night stares at your uneven breasts,

The perfection of an asymmetrical being

called on by the woman-god who created her

Hips dance–

Step out of the wood

Skin and bone glare–birch bark in the light

of the night.

 

Exit your body.

Return to the moon.

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