For

There is a quake in this landscape and in the way the flowers grow;

I bloom for you. I am the rich milk soil, the flooded soil and you,

the heavenly rain that falls on my tongue in salt waves, burning waves from

your hands I cannot fathom and I cannot think, for here you are

in all your glory and I, the valley spring and you, the summer sun.

I am your muse and in the moment with your ravenous mouth on the fire

you just ignited I am above the peaks. I am solid gold.

Mark your way across the break in my ribcage and the pane of my face

and the cracks in this earth where my heart stops and from your breath

I can tell that you know. For this moment I become a night star –

surely you know nothing about me except for the fierceness with which I want you

and I forget all else in an inhale of the air you give to me, your skin’s warmth

in the quiet dark, it is anything but silent. Through the moon’s light from

the thunder sky I can still see the blue of your eyes. It is pure.

And later, we are beneath the red streetlights and your height stands beside mine

steady and unreeling and ever present our hands are one in the same,

I can feel your silent flames pulse through my veins and back into yours

as absentmindedly, you carve a map of the dips in my palm and the shake in my arm     

the way you do on the stretch of me when I lie there for you, basking in you,

and I am this open shell girl for your touch only. The peeling eyelids of

silhouette strangers are gone and we are left: two figures in the haze of each other

alive in this love that is only ours. Your gaze does not leave mine. This is home.