I know you have layers like cake—
pink speckled, blue agate, white

like a heat or cold we’ve never imagined.
When I scrub around my ankle, flakes

fall off like little pieces of parchment.
But you never show your heart even after

all that abrasion. When I was a girl,
I wanted to lay your cool grey shard

across my tongue and be transformed
into a flying goddess. Perhaps I am

not yet worthy. Perhaps I must learn
to throw myself harder yet lighter

across the surface, leaving a wide
reverb of rings in my wake.

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