[the sky is infested with stars]


the sky is infested with stars. they wink at me
as i walk beneath them towards your house,
and the shadows recede like the tide. i reach
your house, spill in through the doorway. i gladly
accept this dream you have breathed into my
ear, between my lips, beneath the neck of
my shirt. i siphon some of your light and feel
warm. the fireflies from your mouth sweep up
my hair, tickle the skin of my back. we open
our mouths and the firmament spills out,
figures of earth against a backdrop of night.

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[i tire of the sea…]


i tire of the sea. i want to be buried in the pale earth
of your eyes, wrapped in the air you carry with you,
womb-like. tell me stories that don’t have any water
in them, where i don’t drown. i touch your face with
fingers rough and whitened, open my mouth to tell
you how much i love you and a scarlet fish spills out
from between my lips. the fish eyes us dubiously,
then shimmies down the kitchen drain. we become
sparks of air and breath of fire, leaving memory to
dissolve on that shore, old tears staining sand.