Isadora

There are planets
teeming
with wildlife
hotter than the stems
and pores
of bleeding orchards
and the thunder
of a brightly-
burning bush.

our feet wept
and the night sweats caught us
shivering when
we try to remember
how things were
in that altered universe-
how the species
have no mass,
no state
no solidity.

No form to mold
themselves together;
nothing but golden ichor
lining like ink
through the valleys
of their vein-mosaic skin-
like water-drenched gods
wrapped in their own blood
like fragments of a dream
trapped at the very tip
of our peripheries.

We did not cry
because they were perfectly horrid;
we cried
because they were so beautiful
their mere vibrations
echoed through our ears
resonating
like water.