Among Ancestors

In the quiet of rooms of ancestors, she lay naked face down,  
a conduit between generations, breathing in the air  
captured by walls her grandfather built  
before her own mother's birth. Her legs dangled  
silky smooth. They gleamed with a doll-like grace.  
The boy standing next to the bed remembers the  
knitting needles his grandmother once held.  
 
Her body is an hourglass made of porcelain,  
a figurine still in silent dance. Her back curves  
gracefully, like a sand dune shaped by the wind,  
tapering from her broad shoulders made strong from  
childhood chores to a slender waist made graceful  
by her mother’s inheritance.
 
At the dark joining of her legs the boy saw  
a thin sheen of desire shining in the light of a  
single bulb on an unbalanced ceiling fan.  
Its rhythmic whipping of air was the only sound in the room.
 
Cradled in the mystery of her family's heritage  
and the wood framed home her grandfather built,  
she was poetry and spirit filled with gentleness.  
The boy’s gaze traveled up the length of her  
and wondered what memories she held of her past.  
 
There on an acre of land at the edge of a galaxy,  
a porcelain-skinned girl opened her virgin shining place  
and welcomed a boy into her home where the  
cycle of life would continue.