Tower

I watch your hands as you paint me

into your walls and unmentionables.

I seep into them like water,

like apocalyptic dye.

 

 

Your hands, smudged so beautifully,

bloodied with acrylics; improbables.

I look at them and I falter,

I'd like to give them a try.

 

 

Use all your languages for me

until we are raving Unstoppables,

clinking glasses at an altar;

for we are the best Most High.

 

 

I love it when you don't look at me;

instead, keep sketching impossibles.

Don't call me Ishtar's daughter;

go ahead, tear down the sky.

 

 -Georgia Lundeen; from Spare