I need to lie to you.
It's slithering in my
veins,
boiling my blood
like a poison,
clamoring
to be drawn from a wound.
Hand me a fistful
of rainwater
and let me
tell you about the ocean.
Lend me a cup of fog
and hear
wonders
of a heaven too sweet
to be light years from real.
This is no sin, this lie -
it is the work of an artisan
and as such, its creation
will
rend me as though
you set upon me with steel.
I'll lay here, gaping,
until a snake doctor
sews me back together,
her iridescent wings
blazing
a new rainbow into the sand.
_________________________________________________
