maybe we are a sinking thing
some white cliff eats itself until
we stand at its edge where it
kisses our feet good morning
and i open under you, another
young rose you’re gentle with
in bed we confuse tomorrow
with heaven sometimes you
ask me about the beginning
of the world when there was
nothing and i tell you what i
know, what i sometimes dream
about: you came from my
left lung. you grew out of the
mud and you kissed me as
soon as you could. we named
each other and the inside of
you always tasted like wine. we
slept every night in star shatter
we were alone in a world that
loved us.