she casts
the lasso up
to the snarling
skies and ensnare it
with the burning rope
it's back breaks in
the wind
like a torn sail

it tangles
in the lunar cavity
descends effervescent stars
like honey dripping
down a string
into hidden
alcoves of the golden
cathedral

here, my love
see my arms heave
the bruises
that adorn me
like the jewels of
an african king
i have brought you
the moon

in the drear sun
i had a headache
maybe it was the salt
from the surfing that day
so i sat in the shade
and watched nightingales
peck at the red
and rotting
sea grapes

he is as blue as the rising crescent
warm as the phantoms marine
and cold as the rain, dripping over
my cupids bow i am refreshed

he is
mine

hold me
orpheus with pale skin
atop the white cliffs
where the foaming waves break
and ghosts cry
beneath the torpid sea

hands, cheeks, chin, nose
pressed yellow against the
warm glass
the sun has no obstacles
but the effervescence
of the bubbling mirage
cast in the grass
near the reflection
of your blushing toes

i couldn't tell you where
but she was surfing on her own
salty water in her hair
and a ribcage full of stone

you were surfing on your own
salty water in your hair
and when you stood before the grey sky
I fell in love with how you care