Heaven Is You

Does a meadow know whose heart has bled;
What souls have longed, what words were said;
Whose love was just, whose dick was led;
Who kiss’d, who fuck’d, whose tears were shed?

I saw you walk by and I found my gift
I watched your song: a shift then a rift
The beat in the feet and the hips adrift
I prayed the wind your skirt would lift

Without your curves, they’re only seven
By right, the wonders should add eleven
But those who saw were struck by levin
Who wrote your name so high in heaven?

Why wait for death if heaven is you?
Your book, God wrote in ah and ooh
The perfect sphere, She gave you two
And said, “don’t turn, for men would sue.”

Thoth © 2009

This poem is adapted from previous writings as a special tribute, and for those of you who are not familiar with my early work. I dedicate this poem to all maturing women who doubt their femininity or think wrongly—even for a second—that their ass is too big. God bless you all and your beautiful asses.

Levin: Middle English, lightening