Boarding Your Body’s Stations

in the wet cloth of a summer’s eve

there are giants on the horizon

would you meet me at their intersection? 

box-teeth stained with feathers and 

the pads of their feet cupped with soil

your fingers clutch the corner of my elbow

the sun slides welts down their shoulders

skin sore and swallowed whole

you tell me they have kindness in their gaze as i 

pull your oxygen mask over your nose

you tell me i have a mother’s touch 

crosshaired between my two eyes 

stuck in the habitual coffin-nod of what-we’ll-never-say:

look at me (left / right) 

sea glittering down the slant of your cheek

you hide your face 

i turn away 

the splitting of lips the sting of salt 

the waves beg at our feet like a mutt

(us, the all-knowing; us, the all-powerful)

your legs submerged in its body like a white fish

the tender part of your neck seared through golden cascades 

you draw triangles in the sand  

and i almost believe in your preference of god

that you are worth saving because your muscles shake with restraint

you must know i’ve been dreaming of you kissing me sideways 

the callouses on my hands              your breath               

mouth half-parted 

hazelnut on your tongue and 

morning cutting through your lashes 

you who have knelt before gulls and one-armed kings

curled yourself lifeless around a cigarette

know i find your voice sweetest when broken