Next Door

So here we go.
We are heading out
with the tide, I’ve woken
belly down in vibrant waters
hung over from pine, lashed by
gull wings my hair tangled and I cry
like a horse in high scream; doesn’t the
goddess of the neighbors house understand
that she is mystery to all, for she be a divinity of
paradoxical proportion, a holy of a home that doesn’t
know her, they know her sister across the street, and so
she can receive no offerings, which brings me to what love is
love that is kin with division; I know not how you hold my hand,
when I am perpetually
in a temple of another.

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