inkstain-fingertips

I was caught in the darkness A cold thing you would never want to press your cheek to A teeth-clenching descent of a person Holding the stars I caught long ago to my hollow gut             (scraped out like a jack-o’-lantern) To try and warm the life back into my knotted hair and bitter blood I craved a touch. A collision of skin against skin           Is like      Flint pumping breath into flame

We are summers of sunny-colored citrus fruit we are euphoria we touch each other the way the  wax caresses the side of a candle we let our feet lose their cool in garden mud we crash, spin, swirl into the canyon of our love Your hands carve flutes from all of my rib bones your lips bring music through mine you fill me with windchimes until i am a  am orchestra, an anthem of starting new you do cartwheels for me on the front lawn i am giggling. you lean close and call me “love” we kiss. It is December now and the snow today is fine as chalk dust. Your hand falls across mine. I close my eyes against the inevitability o

I once wrote that you were my anchor, but I do love to travel. The night your kiss finally fell like a star upon my stained lips, I had already launched into orbit. My heart was a stone skipped into space by your careless hand but now here I stand: kissing the cosmos the way the sunlight kisses the horizon at the end of the day, like a mother tucking in her drowsy child for bed the way a bow kisses the stings of a cello, to hear the concerto My heart is softening again, from the music in my chest I know  you never expected to need a locksmith when you came back,   and honestly, I didn’t see it coming either. Because, when w