i saw Andromeda as i turned my head skyward
and i grazed her open thighs with my pupils wide
like the crinkles in my lips that wet looking at
the milky swirls around me from her supple breasts—
dripping in the birth of her daughter, now a black hole
from which blood cannot escape. the specks dote on my face as the clouds
part, and her hips lie still in waiting,
her knees rest on the ecliptic that traces the dirt
on their caps. i saw Andromeda twisting about to the hum of white dwarves
and the melody from the quasars as they radiate absurdities
through her darkened skin—she bathes her bruises
in celestial dust, soothing themselves from the burns
of the red giants; their murmurs are bold, deep,
undertaking the solar winds—burying them in particles.
i saw Andromeda, chained to the rock
by the celestial seas, leaving her hands still and bound with chains,
rusted, burned-out like the future sun; they are worn from the mist
of a thousand stars, solar systems where indeed stellar dust form the sands
that coat her pale feet, worn from treading upon the earth with undoubted purpose—
this day is hers, as she stands weeping for more, more from the foam
that kisses her face, more from the hero who claims her womanhood
whose body and muscles ripple beside her in the sky. i saw Andromeda
stern as her empire crumbled while her feet twisted
below the rising tides: her monstrous streaks of her morphing hair
rise like autumn wheat and fall like a meteorite finally landing
upon the hollowed ground; her sweat gleams upon her ripened face
when the clouds come to cover my view—her eyes whirling about
in a daze of humid emptiness, something cold yet burning like hellfire
from the Sun again, rising to take her from my sights
and bury her again below the still horizon.

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