Indigo Hawkins Poems
'Let the love of harlots be sanctified.' ~unknown woman
When you come to me, realize I behest
no edifice. Love me in a gutter
or not at all. I merely want to rest
my temple on your temple - to utter
“Hosanna” in the shared throat of a split
alley; to awake spread beneath heavens,
frank before your eyes of melted wax, lit
with a tart torridity which leavens
my body as if I were dough submerged
in a puddle of consecrated wine.
I will pour holiness as honey, splurged
on rose hips and sopping clothes: our benign
impurities to dulcify and bless -
Faded, beaten blue,
You’ve had your share of bruises
And broken limbs.
Once lustrous hair falls to the ground,
Veins protruding, tripping,
Scrapping, ripping youthful skin.
Weariness is evident in your
Misty morning sighs, dark coal eyes,
And freshwater tears.