Rose Fox

Delighted, she takes unto herself
cliffs, piers, ships
of visionaries reaching for the stars.
Takes unto her
uncut toxin by the ton
from secret places
in the land;
she doesn't want it but she takes it
& comes back for more.

What she wants is all the rest,
what we walk on, and working
it out, her breath
is the breath of centuries
of ghosts, salt, pickled ribcages
resting on Everest
upside-down.
She gets on
the hair & the skin & sinks in.

Catch that one over there, thrashing
out way over
his head, laughing
anyway, fighting, flailing, going
down & coming up, not laughing
now, managing to drag himself out
& lie beside her,
beaten, basted, turning, sighing
in the delight, the terror she gives
simply being.

Glint off an opening window
of a condo on the bay:
miles off the beach, great
intelligence in a pack
dives deep where
once there was one home
& the walls, the windows, every board
of that home
was water, boiling.

Billions of faces moved in her
before faces were.
Floors of plankton churned
in brontasaurus eyes, now
our eyes where we stand
at the edge of the girth
of her torment, her leisure
as she takes everything in, slowly
one more & more,
mouths swallowing swallowing mouths.

She whispers
& twists, moans & throws
fits for glaciers to hurry.
Landslides & faults
cut the cake of the earth for her.
Her utter inner otherwordliness
is moving on the California forest, moving
on the roaring cities & freeways
& the sleepy Kansas plain.

SHE WANTS EVERYTHING

by