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I sit in a silvery glade of silence,
remembering how you gave me
a sliver of the moon,
and how I kept it in my mouth
while you were away.
I only tasted you
as I licked the wet swan feather
with my eyes floating down
the crystal stream, reflecting our love,
standing.
Your hands trembling simply, as my heart -
caressing the skin I could not shed.
And though every wish we rubbed against our golden bodies
took root in our minds -
the bubble moon has drifted down,
through the sweating clouds,
to drink a bath of tears.
And now the rainbow of our love is trapped
in this glass ashtray.
My painted dreams of you at night
smear hopeful spores from my heart.
And every color spreads it's legs
to squeeze the violet grapes of truth
for next years wine.
I listen to your voice, and the silence in between
- like the spaces of your eyelashes,
the wrinkles in your lips, the canals of Venice.
I am lost in listening.
And I wonder how I overlooked
the universe in you.
The golden sun tattooed in your skin.
The twilight rising in your breath.
The sunrise of your lips -
the darkened winter of your hair.
I only want to be touched
by your fingerless caress,
reaching like a mountain peak from your soul.
And I live to feel the warmth of your moonlight
in my heart -
no longer lingering like a pearl upon my tongue.
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