If I could wear water, it would
cascade like flowing white satin
spill over my head, sprinkle
my face, skim over my shoulders
purl round my breasts, swoosh
down my arms, riffle my belly
caress my back, glide down my legs
curl through my toes. I would dance
while it swirled,
diaphanous scarves
rippling with every sashay,
skip-step and sway.
If I could wear water
it would enfold me like gossamer
silk, fluid and shimmering
tingle every inch of my skin
unlock all my pores
suffusing my senses.
If I could wear water
it would rise from an indigo pool
gather around me like misty chiffon
embrace me in silence.
Liz Kornelsen
Liz Kornelsen is a prairie poet from Winnipeg MB and the author of Arc of Light and Shadow: Poems with Art. Recent publications include The Trinity Review, The Whisky Blot, The Braided Way, The Solitary Daisy and Rue Scribe. To dance lightly on the earth in solitude, with humans, or with other forms of nature, is one of her greatest joys.
Song:
A Lustre to this Day by Debbie Wiseman