we sat under a
new moon, counting patient stars
in a single tongue.
§
a hollow shell curved
in the pit of my stomach,
emptied of my name.
§
she dreamed a woman
sprinkled black pepper over
my eyes while i slept.
§
i remembered when
i wrapped lost stars in tinfoil
for her morning meal.
§
when she craned her neck
to the moon’s new side, i was
there, numbered each kiss.
§
i learned. her curving
body was a winding road
without compass, guide.
§
our brash words struck bone.
time did not set broken bones/
didn’t rewrite our past.
§
while she slept i sniffed
her raven-black hair, rose water
banished to this shore.
§
she counted her spent
words in our straw house. she hoped
they consumed all air.
§
if i spoke in wood
i would cast her shapely legs
in mahogany.
§
red carnation pressed
in waxed paper/slipped in a
book’s stale leaves…fragrant.
§
above her, my back
spread to the earth’s four corners,
covered sky sea stone.
§
her soft lips were the
purple of eggplant. i tasted
peppers when we kissed.
§
i gargled her name
in my stale dry mouth/tasted
sweet peppermint rain.
§
i rested the moon
in her lap, filled the hole that
remained with my words.
§
known smells (roses/thyme/
vanilla) reminded me
she once rested here.
§
“if you find my name
on your way home, please, keep it
until you return.”