Maybe I should create
a map of my body;
points of interest,
places you must let it rest on this journey,
how to enter gently
then navigate my often swift exit,
the sites to discover
if you wish to taste it.
The shape shifting politics
and picnic spots of pleasure earned
with plot points to measure the distance
between where you are and where I return.
We’re both still learning the history of this sacred ground,
how to light up every speck of dirt,
the scale played by her buried treasure sounds.
This travel guide is as much yours
as it is mine,
tourists of the divine feminine
contouring her design.