Part I.

I tried to die
in the arches of your orchard heart
struggled for breath and bleeding
but my blood was not willing
it loves me like you never would
red lead weights
on the dogeared notes of last weekend
yellowing with antiquity
like the singing saints of Hyperborea-feigned
in paper cathedrals
if only we could see them
once
the moon waned
to these tobacco-trance stains
that creep beyond the door frame's edge
- dreams of Apollo.
You will sing in light
but your eyes will burn
and when the sky falls to night
the halls of your arms will yearn
and your song will laugh at you
in the hollow of its silence
if only my mouth could marry a love like that.
I often dreamt of lighthouses
then
you came from the water's edge
and brought the sea with you
stupid saltwater
sodium mouthfuls
nothing grows from you.

Part II.

Summer crept
in to the holes in your jeans
as the sky fell to dusk
we saw the sun die
under waves of golden clouds
summer kept us warm in to the night
now only the sea sings its praise
to the promise of the evening
a promise that will fall with Arcadia
and the loudest of silences
to the archaic indifference of apocrypha-lost
few others could speak
in a way that grew between us
with the colours of a love not yet lost.
Now all my books are burning
beneath the palm of your eye
your iris twists
and burns with the sky.