How fertile your smile
How futile my defenses
It gave birth to peaceful, dead silence
In a universe of animated cacophony and stubbornness
As we track the movement of the stars
Gliding across terra firma, fervently
When flesh of the palms ascend to join
No lie survives
Once both hearts have submerged
Into
In two places
Between desire and the depth of the Caspian.

In between twin flame frames
Where our passionate, intimate orations' tempests
Stir our souls' embers to rising temperatures
Tempting a Titan high to fight the Gods.

I pray to the four corners of this domain
That if I can't hold on to forever
That you'd consider changing your name to "This Moment".
With permission, I'd gladly embrace your present presence.
-
Ifeanyi N. Okoro II © 2018

With this rain
I thee wed
Wet with aspirations
Downpour so thick upon the earth
It gives birth to creative hearts
Cutting and pasting promises broken in slips once notes passed in class
Now we prostrate
Gazing at glass dimensions
Daydreaming into moistened, nighttime-hued skies
Minutes from dusk
Consuming droplets like office coffee
Casually unfurling our tongues to catch a drip
Hoping to taste what it was like to be cooled down from old flames

This moonlight be the ring
Placed on the lace around your neck
Because your fingers don't need full metal jackets
With rocks like tax brackets
Besides, you're busy tracing our names encased in a heart in the stars
When the night crashes, and Venus visits Mars

But what does a wistful wanderer know?
Even as you depart
I'm trying to contain remnants of the zephyrs of your breath in mason jars like fireflies
As you call down for scattered heavy showers to follow your tempest trail left
Bathing in the heat of the night
Where there's trouble, wall-to-wall
Like Southern Mississippi or
Southeast Asia
Melodies of a river's croon or monsoon's boom, seasonally sweeping
Soaking my head
All of my worries are dead

I walk to your altar
In awe of your flora in the field of beauty
Amongst the springtime shadow of space
And swollen clouds
Receiving
Opening the heavens to sprinkle this bouquet

My poem, the precipitation
You request, I quench.
-
Ifeanyi N. Okoro II © 2018