Inversions

Hands pressed to floor,

blood rushing to head,

my stomach unaware of

which way points north.

The upside-down churns

into swells of blood and tears.

It is the labyrinth of bones and teeth

I can’t seem to leave —

fingertips keep grasping ash.

Hands pressed to ceiling,

eyes open wide,

my chest easing into

all tension release.

Palms to sky

and heart to ground,

I am lifted in knowledge.

The owls perched on my shoulders

kiss my cheeks with gift of wise.

I do not want.

I do not need.

Exhalations expel you out.

Letting go is all ease.

Head to ground,

heart to sky,

the day chooses which

will possess me tonight.