May the thieves, the dark eyed crazies
of the night, may they never go hungry,
pockets never empty
bones never shatter in the cold.
May our enemies be held at bay
by some festival of skin and sin
may they fall asleep drunk
and stagger to their dreams.
I offer up the pink of my nipples,
the bounty of my youth,
offer the voice of the grounded
the lightning of the land,
I pinch my cheeks blush for you
I go your way and learn
the names of the flowers there.
I give the 20 half moons
at the end of my 20 nails,
I dedicate the red of my hair
its coral, the wine, the ruby garnet
sweet nectar of my fire.
Copyright 2002 Rhiannon Dickerson