Chorus

[tectak]

I broke off two of her fingers,the coldness of this statement encourages the reader to expect an extended metaphor. It is an unusually bold opener without any prior indication of intent even from the title. On a complete read, this may be an undesirable construct. Title change?

the green lacy hands reaching,not sure that the "lacy" word can effectively describe even a metaphorical hand, though I can detect that you are avoiding the use of "fingers". Perhaps "green laceD hands" would work. Difficult.
reaching,
trembling
beckoning me inside,
to the faded shadows where time stands
and attempts to be still.cliche avoidance in evidence

Sticky saplings bed into my palm,
first outstretched,
then curled as a paw.no merit in this stanza that I can see.It comes and goes from no where to nowhere. It needs a connection with pre or post.

I wish to growl and unfurl my goddess...now, tell the truth...did you mean to write "growl" or was it a typo-ed "grow" and you just liked it I'll start with the honesty. I don't get "growl"

to reach into the past
and chant holy words
beneath heaven's heavy quilt,
Raw and awakened in a newly formed world.yes to this stanza. Something precious and of religious context emerges here. Yet to be established if this is theological.....I fear we are too far into the piece to develop this sufficient to the needs of an avaricious reader.

Dusk rises like an apparition,Thought not. We are back to nature. Frankly, you may as well omit the stanza above as to me it leads me off-road.I am back in your comfort zone again
cools the air into suspended crystals
dancing just above my bottom lip
curved, in both inspiration and awe.excellent stuff. Very very good observation and translation. I am envious

Loam reaches out,
surrounds my feet and ankles, beckoning.
Come, be one and decay
beneath the wormy earth and rotting leaves.
Replenish the cycle.good but not as fresh as the previous stanza. You raised the bar like the God who could do anything.....but could not make a stone that was so heavy that he could not lift it

One day, my loves...I am still stuck on this one. Why plural "loves"? My failing, I know.Oh, ok, why NOT plural.
one day I shall join you,
and sing the chorus of hosts.

A little jumpy in execution as though you were unsure where you were heading. This can be endearing if the piece is but a train of thought which is shunted along a single track. In this piece, though, we go through switch-points....and I am sick of my own metaphor here What I am trying to say is that by trying to combine philosophical free thought with theology both are weakened, IN SUCH A SHORT PIECE. I would like to see this expanded.....but with punctuation in evidence. I think that this constant, Carping by me on; the matter.... of punctuation! is probably a, Lost cause.
An enjoyable read, but I felt robbed of a great read.
Best,
Tectak