savor

The lingering wind rustles all the stars, the mocking bird singing in full throat in the warm and restless night. I sowed sleep like a handful of hope and seed, waiting to find you dreaming. Birds sing and stars wander, slipping beneath your clothes, scratching at your legs. There is a calm to this rich subsistence, an ease to this immeasurable distance. A breath, an exhalation, then another portion held ransom for a little spark for these tides of blood and wonder. I gaze into the heavens to stare into your absent eyes. I whisper a secret that you knew before I thought to speak. I whisper without thinking or regret.

The hours have vanished into your dense abandon, every minute smoothed into your waiting flesh. You stretch and breathe, you toss and smolder. You emanate these fixed ribbons of ache and claim every adoration. It is of the set of your clever bones, the sway of your earnest tongue, the tidal grind of each muscle always in motion. It is in the nature of stars, this fine hunger, this lovely engine with-in. Your lips part, your tongue soothes your teeth of their very nature, the spill of night a river, your soul the inevitable sea.

My feet find purchase upon dull pavement, numb to the cracks and crevices, steady for all the gaps and sinkage. The breeze leavens the heat that lingers, too much sun and too little labor settling bets with my skin. My heart lumbers along, its rhythm and fortitude both uncertain. A piece of it wanders, measuring your stride, savoring your steady diaspora. All these stars and years only the foundation for the painting of this dark and brilliant firmament. Time stitches all its stories like loosed shadows to our heels. This broken toy, this shattered puzzle. Somehow that kiss endures, out here in the elements. Out here where all the pieces need to fit.