The Size of a Fist

Pull the fingers
tightly into your palm
and form a boney fist
and you will see
the size and shape
of your heart
before your eyes.

Place this gathered hand
over your left breast,
simple and compact,
sturdy and ready to fight.
Throw a punch into the chest--
into of a lifetime of longing.

What gifts this small package carries
into the body each time she enters the door
blinded by human vision,
forgetting her native language,
the tough fibers
pounding the spirit
blood red—
a purple bruise
unrecognizable to her family
of lovers.

The sound is the distant thunder
of the rising storm.
The heat burns
at a constant temperature,
perfect for baking
and the gathering of delicate
yeasty flowers.
The power of endurance
is that of an African runner
making his barefooted way
across the desert.

But what treasure do we find there
balled into the corner of the ribs,
rocked by the breath,
day after long day?
What does this basket of a body
carry to the grave,
time after time daring to trust
the offering, once opened
is not lost
or empty, robbed by some unknown thief
in the dark of night,
but instead will be over flowing
with sweet honey
and jewels to be fitted
into the royal crown
of the priestess at the feast of infinity?

Here each mouth filled
with laughter—
each belly full of sweetness
and enough light
to burst open
all wisdom
and absolute beauty.