Violets are hatching volcanoes.
Today’s bees have swallowed
The last milk of lanterns.
All the whisper goes out in a drum.
An empire separates inside the nautilus.
On a bed floating the basin,
We fall asleep in fog of the ancients.
By daybreak, we trill
Through cavesongs,
Skate our soles
Toward the next aurora,
Listen to our fingers
Kindled as white sage.
Then every cloud is a crib,
Every snowflake a small city
Falling on the eyelash.
Then child, you are cultivated,
Fit to obey
The balconies inside you.
Now you are free to follow your prey.
Erin Case, Cavesongs (collage)