Savanna Wegman 

 savanna.wgmn@gmail.com

Some place
(Between my unlearnt hands
and her as the lyre strings)





I tell the swollen eyes to lay inside the sun

This arrival,

A javelin into light.




In prisms

She paints the shadow’s first flirt

The water’s mother

The relic and mirror







Underworld landscapes like

a shimmer desert

slippery paradise swamps




Her voice, a crushing

into clamshell

crusted glitter,

monolithic lux




breathing her way through

the licks

of perfumed eyes

laughing moss pools —




and like a ready serenade:




Swamp girl greets the storm.




I dream of falling and many

French exits

Into non-places




a seduction

into the all the poet bodies






My arms are written with

The words

ALL THIS PASSION (left)

LIKE FURY (right)







Its always with words that

I try carry enough desperate power to

Enter the tsunami

This language of vision

Floods me  




Ruthless abandon

Angle my throat to the sun

Growing fairy skin




Just trying

to discover it all

Rush all over,

blushing verdigris,

Adding charms to my

Youngest worlds




I sit on my bedroom floor making bigger,

sharper teeth,

Dipping points

in melted minerals




To speak with the elements

To become an archetypal myth

To kiss with the spectre

that beholds ancient things







Draining the colour of the pressed flowers




And the Venus fly trap

unfolds on

one of our tongues




And the blueberries on my mothers hands




And the carving of this goddess

on my ships bow

slices the veil of the water







And the way I left my window wide open




The glass emblazoned

with the password

To my very own blessing.





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