i'd **** the moon
to relive those
cyan minutes
where you were
half the man
i'd always hoped you'd be
when you didn't blame
the circumstance of time
and the missteps of
your 
ancestors
whose flaws you
worshipped like
second nature

your black mouth
gaping open
like cognac
your midnight
fingers
suspended in the air
absorbing the
verdant curves of
my mother's body
that read like
von Guérard's
Lake Wakatipu

i want to
find you
on the verge
of complete absolution
the precise
tweezed hair
second
when you moved
so eloquently
in my mother
and created me

there are foreign
objects  
stitched
so seamlessly
into my DNA
and
you ask me
why the
silken birds
fell into
the night
when i let
you
touch me