Female form(ing)

The delicate dance of femininity seeps through my bones like resin on a tea cup.

New. Pure. Formed to perfection.

Fine china on the shelves of wealthy artisans,

Pearl earrings adorned in shell casing.

Dripping honey folding

like branches in the winter sun.

Amber.

She is my world. Calm, kind, underrated. And, deeply serious. Her mouth upturned like the curvature of my hip. Sometimes they meet and others they don’t.

Violet.

I see the night in Violet.

Her soul, like silk on the kitchen table, misplaced yet comforting.

She looks at me through her heart; an act richer than the splashes of paint covering her wall, an oscillation between muse and nurturer.

Clover? I ask her if she’ll slip out of her dress to accompany me to the alter. Take alter as yoga mat; the 6am class post wines on the balcony the eve just gone.

Willow is as wiry as the oak tree with a mind so mismatched she could squeeze lemons and end up with orange juice.

I live in admiration of Lilac; A writer, profusely devoted to casting spells of alliteration and weaving the tapestry of potent prose.

Peach:

Where to begin? Her skin is supple and loves to be touched.

She dances between my thighs and wraps her legs around my shoulders.

She is smooth and vivacious.

Her warmth extends across the kitchen as she opens the oven to an apple pie. Baked in sugar and topped with clotted cream.

Jade(d):

And then there’s Jade. She commands respect. Her blazer wraps her in a cocoon so cacophonous that she falters when asked to repeat herself.

But, then she remembers who she is and stands tall, bold, and her voice bellows through the hall parting the stream of men who line up for the coffee machine like baby ducks who’ve lost sight of their mother.

As I gaze into the mirror and cock my head to the left, I call on Jade.

It is Monday after all.

And, she smiles as she turns the key in the ignition and sets forth towards the race of capital consumption.

Buildings rise and fall faster than the lift reaches level 15. Even running on solar.

Amber sits in the passenger seat.

Willow stays in bed and Peach makes a bullet proof coffee. Jade is yet to be seen.

The female form is nuanced, beautiful, brilliant and complex.

If colour were the cornerstone for clarity, how would you decide which to draw on?

I call on all my women and together we dive into the day anew.