acurus

There is a mole 

on the back of the neck 

that opens.

From it emerge 

old women

Tracing sinuous lines 

through cracks

Licks of light.

In the folds of time

I plunge my head into the earth.

be a bare throat

Of sweet and sharp tongues.

Saliva is the breath of the river that flows within.

Skies of water above us.

Healing is caring

watch over and generate

crumble

recreate