Awake with me, embrace the difficulty
of opening - questions, projections -
we learn what we are.
Our wine has a savour -
form in its recall
limbs & reverse of bodies, remainders
a day's accounts, costs that add up
between women.
Our fluency blossoms into shape
angled in light's flash, rouge
smears of the real
though day be cloudy, details written over
intimate vapour.
Everything touches what is changing
dreamed as a song or scene.
This is our movement together, in gravity
which is not simple under the air -
breathe of grass, feather, dapples, scars.
An ardent geography works us
paragraphs of longing
throated gold. Our sides gleam
flecked with night's candour.
We are beloved, equitable, lucky
as is our bed, green in shelter
valleys & shades wake us.
I know this place
longing for the other place, that speaks
out to the edge.
Uncertain love geeks, we hack into
each other's codes while day splits our paths
along days of love traffic
flagrant afterwards, depending on
hope & tact in difficult times.
If we were trees, we could burn in air
hot eloquent flowers.
Or learn to be animal
translation from estrangement.
voicing this art of clefts
as we surmount irony & supply candy
rather than worry through causes of flavour
and play among rapid vixens
which render us unto exhaustion
till the breach of day.