direct my marbly irises to yours: all springtime and leaves about to
turn colour.

i see canyon roads and the houses of those neighborhoods we claimed as ours, that time you said,
'people live inside everyone of those' and i kissed your face twice for being
remarkably profound.

i painted our love to memory, each pastel stroke like a grain of sand on a beach my feet
long to retrace.

it is all there, orbiting through eyes that are what i know of
untainted beauty,

lying sideways on sundays with slanted light and full hearts,
the absence of which is insurmountable.