Release

First the pearls, then the thong,

sandals and books,

the corrosive flesh.

I slip them off,

thunderstorm of temper and spirits,

stories hung around my neck.

The sun says its time

to bury the green pulse.

The wind greets me,

leaves a blessing on my forehead.

Ashes to rake.

Like light I touch the sky 

and come down as rain.