Echo.

I can comb
My cherry hair.
I dance the fields with an amaranth
Breeze.
My knots and tresses tames
The air.

I win;
Your thrift is your demise.
It feels so moral to be thriving
I can fly,
If I close my eyes.

With my hands I shake the scheme,
I erupt;
Obscenely and contained
Always,
Never to be
Latent.

I see the Ankh;
It is in my reach. 

I wear the smudge of Cain
With pride:
You can touch it
If you desire.
With my needles I share the tide;
With my feet I tread the pyre. 

I flourish;
Monthly, from an inferno tail,
I am the serpent’s coil.
I am the spinning vestals three-
The limbs of eight;
The weavers’ tree.

I am the Echo
Of human heartbeat.