A star on the tongue
would taste like champagne,
fizzing, floating, unfurling
in blossoms of bubbles,
ribbons of rapture.

And champagne flutes
should sound like Songs
of Solomon, sung in hollow,
hallowed halls of grace
and grandeur.

And notes in marble halls
should hang, trembling like
a hummingbird’s heartbeat,
a flung feather
drifting into heart’s desire.

And your hand on my heart
should charm my veins,
flicker up through my eyes
until you see my soul,
waiting for you.