i dream of burying my face
in your hair and inhaling your halo on
these cold and woman-less nights
after the all-male beer drinking sessions
nightmares i have to pull myself out of somehow
because there is no small warm body
to hold me when the paranoid shadows come close
howling on the window curtains so
i've set fire to twenty pages of poems
standing naked in the center of the room
the smoke weaves like three charmed cobras
and i just want to be home with you

i am home with you
after two days lying in the hammock
reading prose about clouds of white doves
and three nights in bed
drinking wine and laughing
with the record player on
we have succumbed to temptation
whispering about living on the moon together
your voice tickling my ear
pure like the song of a bird firmly in flight
insecure and exhilarating
your cheeks glowing like polished copper
in the candlelight from the bathroom
leg muscles trembling as we lock eyes
in a truly romantic spot
through one of the mirrors

when you go to work i don't feel so tough
i write you letters about scattered isolation and
rain interrupting sequences of thought
drenching the spruce trees you planted
as i lie on our bed and breathe
the odor your hair left on the pillow
meditation comes easiest with these plumes
and i have no place else to go
so please come back home to a
whole healthy man with
big holes in his ears an
uncanny adoration of your paintings
sacred pyramids in his eyes
and a you-sized hole in his chest

if you take tiny
steps
toward me and

i take tiny
steps
toward you then

in the oblivion of a forest at night
we can make body configurations together
i will bloom like an eternal daisy
blessed by your illuminated soul
in the small garden of silk skin
draped across your collarbone
or
just eat an apple in the hollow of a big oak tree together