if you were a succulent creature
would you know it?
would you recognize your own
luminosity…
the translucent drop of dew
shimmering on your slender green stem?
would you know your own rich aroma,
honey and sage,
jasmine, sawdust and fresh-roasted coffee beans,
drawing bees and lovers
from miles around?
would you know your Self
from the endless buzzing
of for and against
waging war with your insides?
would you know the earthiness
of your own flesh
angular or soft
covered by vanilla-scented skin
or marbled thick fur
calling for a cheek to rub on
calling for the surest touch of fingertips
now fiery
now gossamer?
if you were a succulent creature
could you see your own dignified display
in an undulation of the spine
the brilliance of jeweled eyelids
and tantalizing breasts
the streaming of diaphanous nectar
from the center of your heart
blessing the benefactors
blessing the enemies
blessing the unloved ones
who try so hard
to fling their steaming shit into your face?
if you were a succulent creature
would you know it?
could you bear it?
the wonder of it is this…
you are a succulent creature…
surrender to it
bend your knee willingly
bow low to the ground before it
letting your forehead rest on damp, dark soil
let the creature inhabit you
let your own beauty
tear you apart with fierce longing
and the innocence of a baby’s breath
let yourself die at your own sacred altar
let yourself be born into your own limpid gaze
