a stamen on the moon

mushrooming trouble

hunched rock shoulder blades

(gods don’t shrug)

–

rifled shag carpet

pristine paisley cuffs

link ducks to civilization

ancient and majestic

–

only the cypress made an effort

and oh she bends and so can I

he fixes his collar with no argument

except echoes of magma and manatee

I’m staring at a postcard from Vienna.

It’s been so long since I’ve been anywhere.

I packaged some frantic kisses.

Should I send them?

I swam a little today, in my chair,

while I dreamed alternately

of my backyard and your lap.

You know, safe places.

Wish you were in front of me

so I could read your eyes

and taste your smile.

That’s all for now.

Yours, I am.

Each mention of the moon

makes my knees quake

and my eyes lose focus.

Ohhh yes, I let slip

under my breath…

please say it again.

We scaled impossibly high places

and found ourselves burrowing,

greedy for things unseen.

He thanked me

for being an open wound.

i’m old

i’m tired

she said

but are you hungry

you look hungry

he said

was it a miracle

he knew

or did he guess

by her roving eye

was she just sad

was he bored

and did it matter

they wondered