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.