Poem 157: Jaguar Woman

this train of lost souls pinched grudgingly
from the salt of the earth,
rolling through the wheat fields
and stations of this cross country trip,
but be sure to cross your heart first
and hope to, she said,

this jaguar woman, so full of night,
full of flight, leaning to the right of left
as her carriage swayed, she said
are you trained in the ways of flight
unflappable as usual, I said no
(having decided to wing it)
but I know that angels are,
heaven bound as they are
on a wing and a prayer.

but she was talking about the flight
back to the humanity of flesh
as her breasts swayed in time
with the clandestine motion of the train
reminding her of the rolling gait of that
bastard of a dwarf who had once pressed
an obsidian bottle of smoke
to her red rose scented lips.

and of a dragonfly who had walked on water
and settled the sun on to the pooled surface
of evening, when the day had given up the ghost.

about stars sleeping in the caves of the ocean
and a bright blue swimming pool in a very deep
and startlingly green jungle.

she said if you saw snow for the first time
would you believe
if you cried into a handful of freshly turned earth
would you believe
if you held a dying child in your arms and watched
without interruption, the light depart
would you believe

I could only watch her mouth and imagine.