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.