my body that looks like a woman
is hard underneath.
Hip bones in their sharp crescent
are moving aside.
Beneath my white feet
the ground is hot.
Steam rises out of the land.
My body letting go
everything goes out, my eyes,
my ears, old voices.
Steam water,
smoke from the earth,
hot springs under the stone
enter the soles of my feet.
Keep me free from sickness.
Enter the path of my veins
my children
my seeds.
Legs and arms lose themselves
lose their light boundaries of skin.
Old voices,
I think I hear them
speaking
up the long stairway of my back,
white steps
toward the sounds of air.
The sun is bright.
The sky is clear.
Each tip of the grass is shining.