i think what i'm trying to say is that
i wanna know what hand you write with.
that's what i'm interested in,
right, left, maybe even ambidextrous—
show me your birthmarks, and the
little scar you got when you were a kid.
there's a story in your body, on your skin,
and i want to listen to you tell it,
running my fingertips across your freckles
as if i were blind.

I once pitched wishes
Up to stars that listen as well as stars can hear.
My wishes were well crafted plans
Bounding faster and faster and faster
Through a void that cares as well as voids can care.

I’ve noticed just the way
you’ve got this spotty patchwork over the bridge of your nose,
Restless eyes, and try-hard hands.
And I’ve noticed that you’ve noticed that I’m noticing.  
Your attention could mean nothing.
Your affection could mean everything.
Could I crack you open as much as I please?
Bit by skeletal bit by interstellar bit?  
Could I query the fragments for a lifespan
And would they yield, and yield something new each time?

I’d like never to cast another wish
To those gaseous lights bearing hopeless charges into a space
Unfeeling, unfathomed, undone.
I’ll ditch those stars above that never have a thing to say,
because you’ve got your heart upon your sleeve,
the biggest ears I’ve ever seen, and
Orion’s belt written straight across your face.

Discovering marks
that were placed in the darkness
before I knew you