my sister's window

Outside my sister's window, wild purple flowers sit on tall stems, totally unladylike, ignoring the dignity of the tulips in our neighbour's yard.

As my sister calls her ex-boyfriend long distance, they look away from her fetal figure, completely obsessed with the sun. Nearly falling off their sepal seats, they bend in all directions, ready to spring off and out, upwards into the daylight like Icarus did once.

My sister looks out with the flowers for a change, still spying sky patches in the view they jealously try to cover with their leaves.

There is a black woman in my van home from work. Her hair is abaca twine, her skin, rich black soil, radiating warmth in such thick abundance, you can feel it flowing from her two feet away and spilling down to the floor, pooling 'round your shoes. She smells like old flowers and coconuts, like mothers and the folds between their skin where children love to nuzzle. She is the shape of river stones, a handful of them that God clenched in his hot fist and turned into a woman, voluptuous, Venus, an expression of the Earth's magnificence. I would not have been shocked to find roots on her legs, beetles on her fingers, gemstones in her mouth. I look at her and smell her nearly every day in total awe and I wonder how we belong to the same genus and specie. I am so opposite to her. God threw me down from the stars and let the clouds cut my shape as I plumetted into water, cold, eyes turned black with the depths, hair meandering into space like the waves on the tide. Everything about me seems to have fallen to the surface like rain, everything about her seems to have risen from it like a tree. God is such a curious creator.

I've been thinking a lot. Maybe too much.

New pics in my phlog.