I coo with subtle caress
imbued in our words
Aloft, then settling in the currents of my heart
Like the gentle lion
soothing his burnt paw
kneading in the cool softness
of a rabbit’s fur;
His pain pressed tenderly against
wrapped and fragile bone,
for so long
inflicted with the angst of the unknown.
Now I only wish to draw the veil
through the mist,
Await love’s pulling of ribbons
from unopened gifts.
So little time remains,
that I’ve erased its meaning
from anything I can count on.
Instead, time is marked
in the pulsing memory of moonlit ponds,
and blue flame clouds,
And high up night owls.
And by the ticking metronome
to the rise and fall of our breaths,
by angels turning the many pointed star
held in the crypt of my chest.
And interspace. What is this?
Measured by anything not there,
an atom, a planet,
an anywhere.
I have felt greater distance
with one by my side
than I have shared with
your soul across a galaxy’s divide;
A soul that sees mountain ranges
thin as air,
And rivers raging no more than
the silent stream
of a tear.
This love
is a delirious gray moth
in a labyrinth of mirrored passages;
my Beloved is
the glowing lantern hidden
within its center.
I am a vessel of flickering senses
and involuntary impulse…
Whichever way I run toward Her flame,
I find only my own reflection,
for Her light waits cooing around every turn
and I, in flight, burn
And expire
In that unfound flame desired.
