If we had forever to entwine ourselves
In the same way the Alps pierce the heavens
Tearing at this schism of sky
We could shed our skin into the
Dance of the wind as it whistles
Through the wind-chime collision
Of our skysung bones

You are already dressed as an angel
And I can see you
Fumbling to find the halo
You keep in your purse in case boys like me
With amber harvest moon eyes come knocking
At the mountain cathedral of your lips

There is a choir in your belly
That sings in the language
Of sunset summer evenings
But I want to rewind you back
To the bare budding of spring
And do to you
What April does to the cherry trees

Please
I am an aurora blown south
To arch you into St Elmo’s fire
So let’s back bend ourselves into an ember
To remember that life
Is a fleeting wildfire of a dream
But when you wake
Don’t you still want to taste
The smoke
On your lips