BISON
You move my arms and body to imprint your spirit on this plane with force and wonder. With rubber spatula and palette knife, the edges of tools skid across the slick surface, revealing layers of color and light. Shapes intertwine as skin and fur, scrawled lines emerge, I sand them back, re-scrape. Is that a new language in your body? We work with wind, muscle and horn. The sky surrounds us. We dance.
You on earth, are earth. Grounding bulk and girth, cloven hooves scrape the skin of soil, your breath is steam. I breathe it in. Find doorways in horn and hoof, in hot pink, in blue shards, in all the ways you let us into you, through the fur and folds of skin into that pure radiance of being.