She moves to the rhythm of the flames, flickering,
nearly disappearing into the darkness and shadows
as her arms stretch upward
and blend within the tree tops.
I can feel the movement of her hips,
Solemn, unfettered, and unbroken--
longing to find a place within themselves.
She starts to run through the forest,
through the blackness, and brush, and pits of mud
chasing fireflies that light her way to a clearer horizon.
I watch her as she walks her milky body into the lake.
Her thighs part the indigo water
as if her intention is to drown
the opaque pieces she does not want the light to see.
She grasps the darkened water
and cradles it gently to her lips
like a chalice full of thorns and tousled leaves --
Her hands splash blankets of moonlight on her face
And she begs to have just one last chance
One last chance to argue with the sun.