oh, this word
scampering blindly across my salty mouth
a hole gaping and soaked with sunlight
i only drink celestial
bodies
with you

inside your ribcage
i am not a prisoner
i do not blink away maudlin tears
or sail away on copper veins
inside you i am a whispering mollusk
words swelling between my shells
like dirty typewriter pearls

your heartbeat,
sticky and churning with silk
within you, i am moths-
dusty phonograph creatures
fluttering like faux heartbeats

i glide on your fingers
the tips like snowglobes of paris
settling softly after the dancing girls
have left montmartre behind- a city
dripping with spilled wine
and dusty boys with nowhere to go
we could keep them like swollen bellies
and teach them to read the night
like a book of calligraphic poetry

we can soak in caravans of
dirty gypsies with pungent oils and
long hours of howling instruments
skate across the world on heartstrings

here is where we would curl over
like delicate chinese lace
our bones folding under like frail seashells
now i will wrap you around me
in a bed on the pulsing nile
when you whisper about the
pale waterfall sunrise
i know that our dreams, betwixt,
will echo into the satiny fields of forever

our heart will beat like lemons,
and we will rise and fall like sunday carnivals