Man of the Well

MAN OF THE WELL

If you set me down on one of the mountains
I will call on my holy ancestors
cry the owl’s shriek
embrace the trunks of trees
my breasts dripping over roots
nectar rising in my nostrils
I will mix your seed with my blood
call the great storms to spread my thighs
place the roar of the ocean in the depths of my ears
plant the sun in my hollows
the  height of the eagle will rise high pulling my hairs
I will rip a hole in the curtain of the firmament
between firmament and firmament the distance is five hundred years
I will make you drink a love potion
on the heights
I will become pregnant from myself
the burning baby the sole of the foot still in my womb
my placenta will drip a potion of wildness
your roars are lions
until the night furrows
you prophesy over the mountains
the sound of your prophecy in the cliffs
come in my crevices O prophet
have sex with me man of the well
kissing the soles of your feet man of God
then a star will be revealed
the star of the chariot that will carry me
over the high mountains I will scatter my ashes
descending from the chariot
the wind planted its seeds in me
“Afar afar
my soul craves to wander”

Man of the Well