The heavenly floorboards creak as I walk, stray
sun seeds under my feet, cinnamon bark nestled
in my hair, cardamon in my D-cups. The air
cracks like black pepper, drops like laurel leaves.
I brewed this storm just for you. A slash:
fresh ginger, sharp and bright like lightning.
I’ve secured the ladder against the steel clouds, lit
the beeswax, hung oranges like hearts
studded with cloves.