it’s a monolith, thought the gull
alighting on her shoulder
a monument, mused the spirit
whistling through her walls
a pillar, whispered the wind
twirling ‘round her limbs
a village, revealed the crier
surveying her space
a forest, roared the storm
swirling about her hair
a poem, sang the song
hearing a lute in her hum
a damask, decided the novel
etching a tale on her skin
with the sky in one eye
and the ocean in the other
she decides she’s
the gut of the earth
