Venus

Venus is our solar system's analog to hell
Which is paradise itself
Limblessly lithe, bending back into the heart’s self
Do I see through a device or jewelled eyes, amethysts?
Cut through, moon, if you will
Magnetic, we all have our turn at everything
From the stink of wailing hoof glue
To impossible beauty of floral marsupial
Once I had feet mountain wide
Erupted
I flew without and within
I never landed
Killing and birthing with each stride
Sighed ichor