In the season of airplanes, in the age
of blackened miracles, says Lift those
heavy islands. Says Dream the wounds
all healed. A simple enough gesture,
but if the dogs are still hungry. If the
lovers are found by a husband or a
daughter. If, which means yes. Yes,
which means now, here in this
windowless room, on your knees, on
my back, daylight through an open
doorway like music. Like prayer. A
gift that I give you freely. My love,
which tastes like your sighs. Which
feels like the heat between your legs.
This moment never ending.
of blackened miracles, says Lift those
heavy islands. Says Dream the wounds
all healed. A simple enough gesture,
but if the dogs are still hungry. If the
lovers are found by a husband or a
daughter. If, which means yes. Yes,
which means now, here in this
windowless room, on your knees, on
my back, daylight through an open
doorway like music. Like prayer. A
gift that I give you freely. My love,
which tastes like your sighs. Which
feels like the heat between your legs.
This moment never ending.
No comments:
Post a Comment