Two second-hands living in the same Big Ben
counter and clockwise beat together in a similar rhythm on opposing schedules of the day
she breaks her fast at around 8am, syncing with his injestion of supper and she collapses at midnight just as he reboots for the night shift
though they spend most of the ticks and tocks in varying angles
It was agreed upon that they meet on the sixth –
Definitely on the sixth of the week
to reconcile and kindle… caressing those can’t-be-helped blank spaces where fragments should have been

You and I occupy different orbits that run clockwise and counter,
meeting only after a weekly revolution
or when the weather is nice enough that we cheat the course
and find ourselves saying “Hello” within those small windows of
crossing
The planets giggle at our sporadic alignment as asteroids fly by to run
interference
yet we sprout brighter and hotter than any star in the system
a constant constellation to look forward to —

In this vast galaxy powdered with glitter,
(each more bizarre than the other)
two lone stars drifted too close,
fluttering amicably as planets and moons pass them by –
shyly gleaming in the clouds or
slyly glinting sparks to the Sun:
destined to fall out of orbit whizzing to detonate a
supernova...

The Ocean waves its greetings to the Shore,
gently tickling the tips of his sand with
her wet fingers

she sighs at the contact
breathing in before heaving back
in sweet repetition
this brazen exchange

He saw a maiden with bones jutting from her back, she mourned yet she laughed
for she was free for all to see
free to do whatever she pleased

This moved Calypso, the island’s man,
of strong wit and brawn, he stepped towards, once a day – slowly -
until a greeting was uttered

Her crime was love
and she paid for it with her flight and her heart
and while she wept by the taunting shorelines, Calyspo watched

She landed on an Ogygian Island,
surrounded by deceitful waters;
The skeleton of her wings laid bare –
She was cast away by the one she called God

As the Angel fell from
ersatz heaven, feathers shed from
the force of Zephyrus –
One by one plucked with brutal determination
Each flailing smoked before disappearing

I am afraid of matchsticks burning my fingers
or elevator doors slicing me in half
I am terrified of kissing you for the last time in a day
or waking up realizing you no longer love me
I am frightened of the future, of what tale it would hold, if it’d still be you and me
or just... me
I am petrified of these thoughts, of these dreams, of these fears that latch when I look into your eyes
and catch all this warmth and not know what to do if they disappear, when –

Something’s missing…
Well, we’ve said it all
The goodbyes,
The goodnights,
And even the shy Imissyous,
But
there
is
still
a telephone

g               a             p

at the other
end

A silent expectation
A pause.

The crook of your neck is my favorite place to rest my chin,

to bury my nose deep into the crutches of your scent: the natural musk of my person manifested

as a trail of fingertips tiptoe on your bare chest, a smile tugs at my lips gently at the bliss of midday splayed around you,

in turn, you scratch my back fondly: the soft contours of my unflattering body don't feel as unflattering anymore

rather, you transform me into a wonderland of bubbles, mischief and sweetness encircled in this secret display of "us"