What the Water Gave Me (VI)
       

This is how it is at the end —
me lying in my bath
                                while the waters break,
my skin glistening with amnion,
                                          streaks of starlight.

And the waters keep on breaking
as I reverse out of my body.

My life dances on the silver surface
where cacti flower.

The ceiling opens
                                and I float up on fire.

Rain pierces me like thorns. I have a steam veil.

I sit bolt upright as the sun's rays embrace me.

Water, you are a lace wedding-gown
I slip over my head, giving birth to my death.

I wear you tightly as I burn. —
                                don't make me come back.

Copyright © 2010 Pascale Petit All rights reserved
from What the Water Gave Me
Seren
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission