This coiled kundalini
vents female energy
cites a card
beneath this quiet
tantric art.
Inside precise—
a heavy egg
set deep within,
where coiled
kundalini tend to live.
A beatific thumbprint
on my back—
just a birthmark?
or soft evidence
of the supernormal force
that sleeps
in my subtle center,
stirred enough just now
to wake
and taste the air.
Begin with a suggestive stone,
turquoise tumbled round
sometime in the years
of storms
that wash the arroyo clean.
Set in silver
with a hidden pin
and clasp,
one stone
for the abdomen—
silver for the rest.
Let eight legs
extend, soft-angled
to catch at
the hem-edge
of your shirt—
even this quick hug
after so long
unexpected in the street
heartbeat to heartbeat
hardly hurts.