I’ve stitched my dress with continents,
bound the equator round my waist.
I waltz to a steady rhythm, bending slightly.
I can’t stop my arms
plunging into galaxies,
gloved to elbows in adhesive gold:
I carry on my arms a star’s vaccine.
With such greedy sight
my eyelids flutter in the breeze
like a strange enthusiastic plant.
No one fears me
who is everywhere.