Between Notes

Slivered and incandescent
our eyes redefine
each other in darkness.
A fragile, hungry darkness
that quickens the pulse.
Your posture speaks
of predation and surrender.

You drag me forward
and I have never possessed
my body more completely
then I do now suspended
in the tether of your arms.

The weight of your smile
in descent is sufficient
to keep me in place.
I have forgotten
how to breathe
between the notes.

My words have lost their shape
and I think as I feed them to you
that more syllables would
only confuse the sentiment.
The heart knows what it knows.

I am cacophonous, drowning,
at the insistence
of a shared pulse.
I am drowning
with our lips sealed together
and our tongues touching.
I am gathering your clothes
in my fingers in the hopes
of burying myself face down
in the warmth of your skin.


Wordle #187


I am face deep
in the wash basin
peeling back the scars
that section off my heart.
The water therein
Is composed of my tears,
of stars dissolved
by bluster and longing.

My thighs are spoon-smooth
and firm as nearly ripened fruit.
I have spent
the entire morning
chasing birds
in the camouflaged highways
of an abandoned coppice
behind my house.

I have white, full breasts
like twin satellites
barely contained
inside an indigo dress.
I have the time
to break myself down
and reassemble the pieces.
On the inside
I am completely naked.

I am curious
about human nature.
I am curious
about you.
I am like the S in steel,
all curves and romance.
We could lie down
together in the grass
and reposition ourselves
in imitation of passing clouds.
We could make halos
of pedestrian fires.
In other words we could
become something to each other
that we could never be apart.

I know things,
impossible things
like how your fingers feel
when pressed to my lips.
I know how long it takes
for your smile to unfold,
the bittersweet chronaxia
that divvies up each
and every one
of our actions and reactions.
I know that a time will come
when we occupy
the same spaces.

Falling Forward

All that separates us
is consciousness.

You stand before me,
an intimate silhouette
behind an opaque wall.
I stretch out my hand.
You entice me.

My words are certain,
irrevocable, a promise.
I love you
followed by your name
first and last.
There are no coincidences.

I step through the veil.
The ground on the other side
hangs at a curious angle.
A step across
time and dimension.
A step measured
not in kilometers
but in fathoms.

I never feel
quite so loved
as when I am falling
into your arms.
The way
my breath catches
lets me know that
you are there.

Our souls are
laced and heart heavy
like a corset.
Our souls are
porous on contact.
Parts of you
overflow into me
and vice versa.

Sometimes I wake
to the sound of your heart
inside my chest
and I think
what have I done
to deserve you?


Face down

between my thighs,

you inhale my scent

like a carnivore

and your breath

is just a little cooler

than the fever

growing in me.

Oceans spilling into

all the spaces

that we gather,

we are both

pounding wet.

Eyes lifted

your tongue strikes me

like a match.

We were made to combust.


There is reverence

in your brand of torture.

An indefinite hunger,

your supple mouth

opening and closing

in composition.

You are speaking

without making a sound.

You are reciting

the alphabet in French

against my swollen clit.

I am breaking, 

staccato jerking beneath

your crushed velvet touch.

I am a satellite

consumed by gravity.

We were made to evolve.


Your hands

are spreading

me apart.

I am adrift.

Your beautiful,

indecent hands

are a tether

between this life

and the next.

Sucking, licking

delicately gnawing

my body is an altar

overflowing with sensuality.

My lips are petal soft

and wet with dew

and everything you taste

you are eager to swallow.

We were made to worship.


Speak to me

with the tip of your tongue.

Speak to me

in whispers and gradations.

Drink from me

as though I were

an oasis.

Possess me,

I am luxurious.

We are greed incarnate.


I am beating myself

slowly to death.

I am eroding the sheets

every time I surface.

Wounded by your ingenuity,

I am full of panic,

of imaginary wounds

that you kiss away sweetly.

I am screaming 

your name in vain

to a four-cornered god.

I can feel your breath

breaking against me,

face down and praying.

I am helpless against

your heart-shaped mouth.

Together we can be saved.


I am dissolving like winter

beneath your fingertips.

The weight of your body

settles against my borders

and I am making room

inside of myself for you.

You erect a monument

between my thighs,

a monument held together

entirely by the friction of poetry.

You might as well love me.


You are planting flowers

on my skin with your mouth.

You are burying yourself

in me as if I were a garden

and everything about you

feels like spring.

In the wake of countless deaths

I am made to feel permeable again.

You might as well love me.


We stick together like

summer and the heat

of your body

is making me malleable.

I am folding and refolding

underneath you like a kept promise.

I feel you on the underside of my scars,

overflowing with thunder

and the ghosts in mind

are finally quiet.

You might as well love me.


I am coming apart in your arms

and the lines that separate us

have all been drawn in water.

I can’t distinguish myself.

I keep finding myself in you.

The gravity of your soul

is the only thing 

holding me together.

You might as well love me.


You move like autumn

and I am ricocheting

against you like a scream.

The currents between us

are tearing me apart.

The currents between us

are feeding our hunger.

I won’t let you leave now that

you’re wrapped so tightly.

You might as well love me.

Inside Out

The moon is liquid heavy

I carry it cupped

between my timid palms

like a sibyl’s nacreous eye.

I am drinking confessions

from your wounded mouth

and I don’t need to understand

the words to feel their significance.

We are struggling together

underneath the sheets

like two frightened animals.


I am nose to nose

with a wall of shadows.

I am a capsized boat

drifting fitfully between

the apparent and the profound.

My hips are in the custody

of your beautiful hands.

I am a downpour.

I am sinking into your thrusts.

You are pushing apart

my margins with finesse.


My weight breaks in waves 

across your trembling hips.

You are bedrock deep.

I am wracked with peristalsis.

I am milking you dry

and making you wet

at the same time.

We are reinventing love

from the inside out.

Only You

I want to wrap you

around my body like a room.

Floor to ceiling, only you.

I am grasping at your smile for context.

We are dreaming out loud,

just the two of us.


You are toppling

through my arms like silk.

I am begging you

to split me open

before my words

silence the choir of my heart.

We are connected. Scar to scar,

an entire constellation of us.


You are sitting in front of me

with your eyes partially closed.

I am counting your eyelashes

as if they were the flower petals.

Does he love me yes or no?

We are holding hands

in a silent prayer and there is nothing

to anchor us but our commitment

to each other.


If I stood before you

mouth askance,

fingers folded

into the hem of my shirt,

gaze soft and itinerant

would you pay attention?

If I stood before you

with too much to say

would you wait for my words

to push their way past

my trembling heart?


I could stand here

all day drowning on air

thinking without thoughts,

feeling too many feelings,

alive but blank as paper.

I could stand here

all day with my silk wings

tied behind my back

and my hair rising and falling

on an intermittent breeze

looking more vulnerable

than I ever intended.


Would you let me tattoo

invisible poems on your skin

with my fingertips

in order to occupy the silence

between each breath?

I would break down

between your arms.

I would let you tuck

our smiles together

for safe-keeping.

I would gladly spend

all night rearranging

our bodies underneath

a bruised meniscus.

In the moon-heavy darkness

I would gladly undress for you.


I struggle to anchor myself

beneath your gesturing tides.

My fingernails drag red ribbons

across the canvas of your back.

Your body is a Rorschach

of impressions and temptations.

The shape of your mouth

on consideration leaves me

wet and malleable.

The color of your eyes,

the angle of your jaw,

the shape of your nose

a beauty subject to proselytize.

I can think of a dozen ways

to worship you

using only my tongue.

None of which involve words.

All of which are poetry

in their own way.


I can feel you growing

desperate inside of me.

Your instrument filled

with music and the distress

of involuntary surrender.

If it were possible I’d let you carve

your soul directly into mine.

Wherever our pulses

overlap they are amplified

and if I had thoughts left to spin

they would be lost against

the breakwater of our bones.


Your breath dismantles

in the crucible of my ear

like soft, feathery wings

against a seductive halo.

I want to be reduced to pulp

by your nimble fingers

and when I have become

unstitched I want to feel

your tongue stoking

the scoria inside my chakras.

I am held together

only by the heat

of our synthesis

and the repetition

of your name.

Your name made obscene

by the installation and enunciation

of my ceaseless desire.

Your name a mantra,

a prayer, a star unfurling.


Deify me. Vilify me.

Love me like you

intend to give me

the moon afterwards.

I want to consecrate

every inch of your skin

with my bruised and bloody heart.

Your sex drenched, rooted

and strangled between

my milk pale thighs

fills me to excess

and all I can do is swallow.