The black broth, the cream fissures
in particle trails like living sprites
foam in swirls to the crust of my goblet
in plumes of white steam, bellowing
and bathing my skin in ink
giving me breath and old ideas
this liquid flushes our bodies of impurities
while we sit in the thick, sticky dark
of twilight June.
We both have work today.
You tilt your chin to the singing sun.
Brazenly trudging like the vandal you are
To Middle-ground, bestial, bruised,
Mushrooms ringing your ankles
Like minnows. Thunderstruck,
Bucks started, tagged your black eyes femme macabre,
Receding like seeds from you, Queen of der hexenkries
Nigh woman or girl, but hellion with breasts.
Because clearly you’re Hera
Fair Contessa reigning Amazons
Weaving their pleats with perfume and barbs.