Originally published by Moss Puppy Mag, October 2021, p. 72
Pea Flower Tomioka
Jazz Swale
The moor of you bogs my senses.
Alligator ragtime me stumbling blind into this rhythm
Sump morass to tipsy trick my toes dipping
Tip into testing waters
To learn if we can dance here.
To pray here.
In that wet way we pray.
Worship at the altar of your bullfrog croaking
Roar out into cypress secrets
Your deep aches
Your hungry throat
And how I sing cicada summer to the buzz of your heartbeat
Feet sunken still in this muck as the world stands still
In the shelter of your arms
We will sink here, lover,
Into wetness and mushroom rings
This fae way we play
With our flesh
Kissed in dappled sunlight and ferns
Where fireflies circle overhead
As we kiln to kindle this earth
And sculpt our fire swamp sex from this clay.
Tomioka, Pea Flower. "Jazz Swale" Swampland, Moss Puppy Mag, October 2021.
Jazz Swale, Moss Puppy Magazine https://mosspuppymag.wixsite.com/home/issue1swampland
