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you cup the budding moon
with the slick of your thighs; you
parse the sun in bubble-bloom
thoughts and

clustered stars cling to the
tuliptree roots of your
collar bone:

that delicate ridge that ether fall.

i want to touch coral cheeks
and grind sweatdrops created by
the friction of our bodies
until pearl dust
settles in your laugh lines,

entangle ankles that
fit like sepia in a locket— last year
laid bare against copper
hearts, raw sentiment
oozing from our
talus bones.

i want (you)
your moonstone skeleton

your deep daffodil smile.

dandelion chimes blow
and this snow-weed silence
is what i come to associate
with the

yeses you utter,
flotsam wrists spread like
the undoing of a mobius strip:

impossible, lovely.