to be lit up from within
vein by vein
It was difficult to recall when she was last exuberant or not haunted by something forlorn, puncturing, or piercing, forgotten in the abyss, stumbling around in the darkness. But those tempestuous eaves had been punctured by the state of wilderness here and now, remembering elation and exhilaration, the springing of weightlessness along her shoulders, strung between her spine and ribcage, and only raucous, loud, savage intervals to follow. She whooped into the sea breeze as it coaxed and cajoled, as the sensation of freedom and liberation cast its way into her bones, skimming over surf, over waves, over tides, power undulating, rapacity calling her name along currents and wickedness. She shook her head when the droplets cascaded around her, snorting, closing her eyes, only the sensation of movement and motion to guide her, nymph contortions binding her hands to his fins. The gilded gaze reopened at the sound of gulls above them, at the cool embrace of wind and tides, heart singing, unburdened, strong, solidified; remembered who she was. More than a sprite, more than a battling, little, emboldened piece of dust.
Then they zigged and zagged, and her knees bumped into the rest of him, grasp alternating, changing, so she didn’t find herself falling apart or cast aside; no fear, no hesitation, even as her arms began to ache, even as her muscles began to pull and tighten.
to be the sun
MELITA
