You do not frighten me.
I’ve teeth of vanilla cake, a neck
as shined as a blade; I’ve the arm
of a bowman.

You do not carry me.
I’m heavy as gravity, oleum
searing grounds and at night
I weigh as darkness.

You do not know me.
I ripple time as a whale
beneath water’s seal.
I eat fire. Slay death.

The salt, sweetened by my gaze.
I bow and my mooned back
becomes an altar
for the gods.

You do not send for me.
By the shore I’ll hear
the corals cry and the waves
bleat. I’ll come.

I’ll come on four hooves
of flame, with lion’s tail and
kestrel feathered crown
I’ll lay

at your tender feet.
For I love you, ad entelechy.
For you I’ll bear the road,
and all its dangers.