Rapunzels' Daughter

You are the everchanging sword in my soul,

The flowering in my eye.

The summit of strange vitriol,

And love, that is our tie.

You are the armpit,

The silvering phoenix;

Thieving my life like a silent cuckoo.

There's some sweet bitters in the blood.

Poppies for me, and rue for you.

Secluding myself in a tower with no door,

I sang to the drum til my hair reached the floor,

As the ivory-years wittle slices of ceiling,

Hair swims as feathers of rain wear the feeling,

That bridges are fallen.

The water's unlaced.

At the top of the ladder,

Of hair, is my face.

But I'm different to you,

And your owning tattoo,

Is puncturing sorer than ever before.

All the years I wandered,

My heart burning blundered,

My feet wore your shoes,

To the tower with no door.

To know you I drifted,

Soft and fishlike through nets,

Sea-skin pressing cold blood necks,

Till my throat flickered gills.

For your tower and tide,

Are the prophets who lied.

Now I see it engraved,

In your hand,

On my soles.