So predictable it hurts . .
My blood nicely drifts this morning
Some sort of red bell bloom conspires
Right arm necklacing my garments
She’s in love writing postcards
Full color divinity ink slips her mouth
Shading plastic limbs exhausted
Affirming the resurrection of her tongue
Her first Gods purring the soulful return
Her high heeled abstractions kneeling forgets
Findind the promise in a want . . .
With you darling my feet grow nothing but warmth, thank you.
In this murmur that receives us
Excellently unleashing postures
For this sleep is now sweet
Softly exploring the name in my womb
Stumbling nevermore she finds home
Kissing the skillful moon to stay
Constellations solemnly hugging into me
Serenading the slender language anchored