pornograph

A building wind gone wild and a tide of tree limbs, the moon walking tiptoe through the scattered leaves, this hour of long and lose. The heel of the season just come down, grinding at the bones. All your darling lovers littering the tenses. All the conversation left between you and the heaven help us moon. The years and the hour glowering down, and you linger for a moment in the taste of missing lips. Wanton wishing, and the shadows weighing down.

You again at the edge of fever. The imagined heat of remembered flesh, the long night of the deep lonesome. All these threadbare metaphors, this ten thousandth starry starry night. Words to press against the pleasures you possess. Common drugstore odysseys and the grave you’re digging. Breathless moments and blessings numbered and laid to rest.

I want you, but it’s way past lights out. You the very limbs of slow kindling, the deadly art of live wire. The heat the root of your incarnation, this light a glow from the tomb of the unknown star. Love letters and ritual incantations. The what to say and where to say it. My wishes all upon you, and all these words instead.