Empress of the Sun
Between my bare toes
the tender earth moved
spongy and sticky, like a good cake.
Her kisses had been
coffee and cigarettes,
whiskey and chocolate,
the icy sting of snow on my hot tongue,
the pinkest bonfire flames.
Moving through the woods at midnight,
I could feel the turn inside me,
could map out the fire in my throat,
the swelling in my lap,
the power of my resurrection
from dead girl
empress of the sun.
Dusti RWF is a disabled, queer, gender-free, Gen X writer living in Duwamish Territory, where they run the quarterly poetry zine Delicate Emissions and the Medium publication Disability: In the Margins. They contribute regularly to The Open Kimono and Zen Poetry.