build me a city
and i will paint you in gold. when we stand on the towers
everything becomes a shooting star
a question not of if but when they will hit the ground
and not when but if they will crash before we do. there are
galaxies beyond the scope of what we think
is beautiful, what is human
and what is perfect.
build me a temple and i will
worship your gods. the land at our feet
is a coagulation of shimmering glass,
of lightning on beaches
paint me in prayer and i will walk with you to the ends of the oceans.
good night,
good morning,
paint me a village and i will build you a sunbeam
when the light hits your cheekbones
i call it home.