X marks the spot 

A name tag to remember where your bones gave way to the earth 

Goodbye flesh once painted in lotions and scents

The smell of Angle or Chanel Mademoiselle 

I used to think that’s what made me a lady

A fragrance - 

Just a fragment of self-respect

Wooden nails seal the box 

Everything decays

The walls become caves

The worms feed from me

The birds feed from the worms

An American Robin greeted me outback this morning

Belly puffed in orange

A symbol of good luck

Call it violet 

or rosemary, 

Something sad and yielding

Sappho took the words from me

Bittersweet

Nickel stains the space where my knuckle and palm meet

Dress me in silk painted with colors of the sky

A vast mirror to the ocean

I hope the clouds sit low

Like the wind, 

I blow

Away, I go

Windy, self-prescribed

The breeze you crave on a Coachella summer night

I hear the date palm beetles

Tap dancing to the beat of the stars

The stars look like stars

Each its own rising sun

Glitter, shimmer, shine so bright

I hear the rustle of the date palm leaves

Let’s pretend you’re my tambourine

Oh sweet, 

tangerine

The frigid gust that rushes through the lifting cobblestone roads, 

On ice,

in all white

Flushed cheeks and rosy nose, 

I am your cold

Brown leather chair, three candles lit 

Practicing pause, 

You take a sip

Coffee and chocolate and sweet reminisce, 

Nestled away from me, 

Away

Never to hear me answer 

Yes, when you call 

I bow for the final time as fate takes the reins

Windy Lady, 

That’s my name.