Turtle Shell (a poem)

I found a

sacred space

in the crystal cave

of my heart—

 

a holy cavern inside a turtle shell

at the bottom of a lake—

 

where the turtle eats my roots,

bunches bouquets with my shoots,

looks askew as it redecorates the clay

where I warm my blood—

 

warmer than mulled wine—

like wasabi but fleeting like love—

thumps in, thumps out–takes your breath away,

makes breakfast in the morning—

 

promises to sleep away

the next holiday—when it knows

I will be in the

crystalline centre of my heart—

 

at the bottom of a lake

an empty shell gleams at midnight—

 

a sacred space

beneath the gleam

in the crystal cave

of my heart.

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