ripest memories loved best & turn the volume high
like radios by poolsides in the prime of summer afternoons.
Underwater depth, your gentle affection is fully-rooted
in mysterious ways—Unknowns, like a sleeping lion—
those depths, deafening me with your majestic coral caves.
I blend into your silken mouth. Alas, we blend together;
perhaps flayed, perhaps a harmony of opposites,
the spinstress of warmth. Go on, hide me, but love me.
Love me before I become bokeh in your background,
& if I do, cut me out of the pixels with your hatchet,
inform me of my predictable mishaps without a sound.
Stand on your tippy-toes while whisking me away.
Climb the sycamore like Zacchaeus the exact way
& remember me when your heart begins to starve.
No comments:
Post a Comment