Come sprinkle salt
on my twitching tail,
dear hunter,
when the barks are kissed
blue, a candle
in your hair.
Veiled in susurrus, I balance
on the bottleneck
of being
barely sit in the blurry skirts
of apricity, in the red braids
of root.
I have waited
all this time for you
to find me.
I have waited,
brooding an egg you call
the observable universe,
in a place you call
the natural world.
I have felt you
ripen beneath the concave
of your cinder shell, scrunching
up against it,
an eager tiny life.
I have waited
for you to come,
dear hunter.
Come bury
your knife.