I imagine I can write about
war—that god and man
have contrasted to the
continually shading
topaz of bodies being
crystallized.

stoic,
tangled planets overhead—
circling as my eyes
fill with infinity-pools.
your edges
fall off when I
look up into space to
see you without
seeing you.

a parhelion forms with
the sun’s peaking out,
irradiating your eye
in crown.

there is a sanguine wonder
to your cigarette as
you drag your lungs
across the floor.

citrine is your smoke
crawling across
the bed.

light moves.

a nanosecond passes by.

trim and clipped,
a puff on sheets and—
oh my—a parallax
fairies down like
cars being pulled
across an ocean.
I ate you.
three times ten to the
power of light, a cobalt
yellow and megaton
of arum lilies
wreathing your
apple’s bottom.

night is precious
prey and
predator.

night is
whisper and
auscultation
of worried men.

night is blonde
bone removed from
the body.

night is stiletto
killer elite.

night is
my brightest
friend.

night,

leave
and take your
bell with
you.

I stay awake—
gas,
ion and
tail.

your ghost strokes
my back, fingers
ski-jumping vertebrae
as my face steams into
powder.

your pith, soft and white:
our star in you—
rove to your low neckline in
fire humming comet.

space is blameless in
this limb of heartbreak.

sundog—small and incomplete
half-***** rainbow.
light.
at least once a week for
the clever dreamer,
the girls with no eyes,
the men with small *******.
there is

fortune in the river—it swims
away when I take you breath
down to it in a bucket. and my hands
quilt flawless wade of
nighttime water.

*where is the colored light?

nowhere, sundog.
nowhere.

a waxing crescent grows thicker
every day—a careening sickle
half-hugged and begging
—below, flying flecks
of salt. The

pang-tamed wile—gems wrapped in
foil and heated in
god’s shadow in space. I am

close to those I love. I am

made of molten jewels.
meltingly.
meltingly. bowl of

wisdom—a dish for
old mints and mammalian
eyes. These tears—

they are mine.