recalibration

maybe i don't need money
which does nothing but devour
when my pen, divine and feminine,
flows so easily across a white divide
giving birth with every movement

maybe i don't need a bible,
sitting in judgment at my bedside
when all the love i'll ever need
is breathing quietly beside me
reminding me i am safe

maybe what i need is a cave,
a coven, and the warmth of skin;
bonfires and the cycle of seasons;
dreams of stars not yet destroyed
by a billionaire's ambitions