“Viola Sororia”

Cross-legged in the grass, she braids my hair
Over, under, over, under,
Twisting together girl and violets
Blue and brown as a bruise.
Knucklebones press into the nape of my neck, her touch pulling me under,
Over, under, over.
I understand how Sappho must feel,
Her words in fragments,

Decades stretching between sentences,

Tongue buried beneath centuries of silence.

(Sweet mother, I cannot speak.
Slender Aphrodite has overcome me
With longing for this girl.)

Only the violets speak here. Their quiet purple kiss
Root my fingers in the earth with
The wet dirt-taste of want coating my lips,
Heart throbbing in time with her fingers moving
Over, under, over, under.