Black streak
Between slabs of gray
Yellow dashes
Running their way
Head down
Dont hear what they say
Ask for food
When you know you cant pay
Wander outside
The empty cafe
Eyes close
Its been a long day

Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it - our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowsy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.

late
in lamplight's hiss
I sat and watched the attic dust
dance under spotlights cast
by moonbeam
          skylights
on a stage of memory
and forgetting

to be this is a privilege some write, and I agree

to be this that lives
and breathes
is a gift

I sat there
looking out the window
as vulnerable
and as frail as any other living creature
with my wounded feet covered in bandaids
with black chipped nails
with spongy untamed hair
undeceiving

it is a privilege Campbell
to sit here bare as I am
truly it is

i can't decide if it's better
to embark on a new normal
or to live in a bubble
of dwindling, stolen moments