Out here, I’m lonely enough to open
my body for anyone that finds me,
hoping they’ll anoint me
like a primordial light loosed
from a fossil, a wind trapped in ice
for four million years. I wait here
to be seen. When you reach me,
you slit me from neck to groin
as if peeling a fruit
you have just discovered, my pain
a pearl nectar trickling
into your cupped hands
like an extraterrestrial spring.
You have never been hurt.
Never been cut, been sacrament.
I dare you: Put your mouth
to the wound you’ve made of me
and breathe in.