rings made from rainfall
the seabed still remembers
sunlight upon its skin
the hinges of your heart
sprinkles rust like pollen
as the dark wind of your blood
squeezes through its doors
left ajar
smoke splices its tongue
more surface area
to taste the dark
caves will call
to the sky
sky will become
ceiling
watched the wind
read the fields
each blade of grass
a word
lost
what I’ve not even
found
worn away with waking
you speak in song
sing to the robin
about how your heart
rusted red
I write to you
to keep you near me
heart a grate
full with ash
carried out
to the garden
on a warm
windy night
replaced my heartbeat
with the syllables of your name
miss the sea glass
crumbling sunlight
in your eyes
knowing fire
through the smoke
of your songs
the tantrums
of your tenderness
how your steps
slowed
to match mine
stars born
from the sparks
of figure skaters
figure eighting
upon the dark ice
of deep space