Folktale

I’ve come to collect your worship,
keeping the black streams

radiantly alight with reflections of
beauty-scented fruits

and the juiciest grapes that have
swelled in delight

under the cooling of a rare celibate
Apollo

I have nudged the bees
to the mountains to hive

to eat only the sap from the trees,
these flowers are

for you, their buds intact, none of
the fire shall suck

away the youth from your ageless
face, take a dip

in these greens of a berry laden forest,
its paunch

pulsates of your bulging temerities,
the curiosity of a bone

in silver, the mane of a horse,
the dauntless hooves
the eyes of a mass consumed sea,
take a dip in

Folktale

the opened earth; we’ve come to
collect

the rightful