A Slow Stoned Song

Stoned and slow, she listens for her heart-wave, the rhythm of you in her. Her stomp, a slow metamorphosis into hummingbird, out of rage. She keeps you in her poppy-song, there with dewed-fireflies and unlovable soil, keeps you small and unsmall, before and for always.

Small and waved, you slow for her song, the rhythm of her near you. Your dewed soil, a stoned metamorphosis into flight, out of unlovable stomping. You keep her listening, there with weed and poppy-whiskey, keep her stoned and unstoned, always and before.