legs splash from milky sheets.
she rises from the bed like a wave
and crests, just before bare feet touch wood
and fog crawls across the mirror.
footsteps leave damp prints on the floor.
she sings in muted tendrils that float through
the sun dries her hair with copper fingers.
the shadows bunch beneath her feet
and she tosses them across the sky-
painting clouds over the staring sun.
mile-long legs stretch across the world
makes love to the hand-me-down earth.
her quickened breath becomes the wind
and sails ships across the seven seas.
when the sun grows weary,
she tucks it into bed with her brushes
and crimson-golden paint.
she sings songs while the stars
roll and tumble down the edge of night.
the moon wiggles in her teacup,
she sips carefully, pensively;
the man in the moon plants warm honey kisses
inside her mouth.
and they grow into peals of strawber