Ex-Voto

Call it “flesh vessel”, oil forming
rings around the stomach
of her papoose, a rind of thick skin
heaven knows it holds together so
what  mouth knows to be soft
fruit, a tang, fur-lined olive

a fistful
of holly in a sea of moths
─the exact moment light bends
into phosphor & slow decay

I think She, or Radiant Hummingbird
her intense sun, prays to thickets
of pulse trapped in the blood
of Mayan gods—she stretches
her breasts to meet the tongue
earth shaking between the knees

Call it “honey temper”, simmering
in her saliva, ointment or salve for
mosquitoes—all utterances slick
with hum her vulvae spreading
to receive flowers