black ash and blackberry juices staining my white fingers
i lean back and taste
the feel of a late summer sunset, cool and quiet
like the moment before a sudden rainfall.
the august sky above,
all those
blushing clouds
shying away from your camera’s lens,
slipping off
into something more comfortable
beyond the darkening horizon.

i’m floating in the blue moonlight,
dreaming with my eyes open, of
my fingers and mouth on your hips,
tongue soft on your skin,
my hands drawing you in
and i feel
you
holy.

your mouth tastes like pomegranate seeds and the earth,
like charcoal and nectar,
my flesh trembling like a hummingbird
afraid of new beginnings and abrupt endings
but you,
how are you different?