I can feel you behind me,
Something breathing still
Against my heartbeat
And the very hairs on my back.

I meet you sometimes
Between the uncertainty
Of my solid skin, and yours
As firm as glass when you’re here.

I dare you to speak
And to break me open
Like a pomegranate spilling
It’s ruby seeds.

Instead, you, full of
Clementine melancholy,
Turn round the edges of the moon
And the sun rises.