After Hernan Bas’ The Softspoken Sissy with Spoonbill Feathers
You dream of cockpits and I am all bad puns, innuendos, and admitting I’ve fallen in love with you. So let’s fly somewhere. This is another love poem. Count your flamingos on one hand, raise a leg and point west. I know you want cactus spines in your palm, a desert on your tongue, and I’m a strip club glitter highway, so touch me to be dirty and lit on light. Glitter between molars grinds the same grain as glass. Blue bottles pounded down by the tide, my teeth are gnash-rare, and attempt to be the sea on your skin. When I tell you I love you it spills out as all light floats. You appreciate the concept and say you want the shape the sun, put your hands around its neck and squeeze until it moan-chokes a solar flare. Because I’m light and want to be bent, I come again and again as star dust/&/lightning struck emoji. You say everything is a circle under the surface and I regurgitate like a bird. Everything is a circle under the surface, which is to say, an earthworm has a core, and the earth has five hearts. I am making my body earth, and when I do, how many hearts can I hand you? How many beats until we hit bass, and I let you see the bottom?
