I.
I tremble towards you slowly,
tripping into shuddering branches
as uncertainty whips heavy circles of anticipation
into my glowing soul.
Grabbing your hungry waist
I pluck the moon from the sky like a ripe fruit,
a meager offering to your receptive lips.
For a moment the stillness hangs;
as we melt into the intoxicating darkness,
our senses take to the heavens like magnificent owls
gliding gracefully in the unending moonlight.
II.
Your thirsty stare weaves a cocoon of hope around us,
borrowing the sticky twilight-geometry of spider silk
to meticulously resurrect every splintered forest of past regret.
Of moving on
we know nothing.
As our ambrosial kisses stammer in particles and waves
they ignite into a necklace of slumbering lotus seeds:
thousand-year memories of human regression and procession
that churn like mammoth wheels,
revealing the steady clock-like drift
of our intertwined subconscious minds
which connect like a stomach to food
after a month long fast.
It seems we’ll always have mouths
for filling, won’t we?
And what is freedom but your body pressed against mine?
Our exploring hands promenade in the faint light,
and what a journey those photons have endured:
from sun to moon to Earth
and then into the fierce waterfall
of our cascading hearts.
III.
We covet the moist essence
of our volcano-melted edges
until the segmented worms of possibility
digest the sky into swirling puddles
of florid fever-dreams that
we escape only by rebuilding
our destabilized molecules one by one
in the accelerated consciousness
of our enjoined lips.
