In the spaces

between certain stars

the black tarp is so taunt

that you can just make out

the blue underneath.

I imagine you crouching

in that almost blackness,

in that beautiful, unending void

like a panther in prayer.

When you find me will you ravage me?

At last.

At last.

I can hear your eyes

opening and closing,

the faultless lament

of your soul begging

to be understood.

I know that some things

only make sense

to us in dreams.

I know that I am

only at home in the places

where we overlap.

Your pale fingers drown

in my eager currents,

in the madness that wakes me up

in the middle of the night

to scream, to scream.

Your name is the only poem

I can recite by heart.

It is the friction

of the sea which moves

me towards you

while the world spins itself

into tight, straight-edged circles

that eviscerate and bind.

It’s boring sometimes,

the waiting,

the tucking in and the pulling out,

the half-assessed attempts

to fit into my too small life.

In me there is a fleet

of unsailed ships.

I suck the tears

out of my hair,

the sting of salt,

the open wound,

the I love you

hot and sharp

on the tip

of my tongue.

I want to tell you everything.

At last.

At last.

2 thoughts on “Love In Quarantine

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