In our secret solstice

I said . . .

For you—

I would sleep on ancient green bronze nails.

I would fell the forests of six thousand mountains.

I would walk through the hushed valley of the Blackteeth.

I would teach a nine-headed cobra to gently sway and sing of lotus offerings.

I would harness the wind stars and hold near a thousand burning sun stones.

I would live in the marsh where five hundred thunders dwell.

I would place a cooling compress where the giant’s axe cleaved your dreams.

I would pluck the sad orchid Dragon’s tears from beneath your stilled, centered eyes.

I would fly of Gryphon’s wings to hum a whispered lullaby and battle night-demons from your sleeping gate.

I may even have mentioned licking a dusty driveway or two.

We giggle giggled at my exaggerations, rough-housing on lover’s extravagance.

But I meant it.

From the Spring 1984 issue of Inquiring Mind (Vol. 1, No. 1)

Text © 1984–2023 by B. Blake Levitt