I. I watch you sleep Exhausted with chagrin after the lioness Has yielded the last of her haunt to her king And I too, have remembered that manipulation leaves everyone empty And the whole love thing gives me an enviable solitude
II. You had the scent of memories drowned in grateful tears And if I’m not mistaken, it’s a derivative of grapes and honey Your legs quivered like a brazen wine and your back harped like Smooth cedar bent on the verge of snapping Pure fire is burning relentlessly out of the swirls in your hair Love, how I wish to iron your clothes on the canvas of my warmth And to wash you like a child fully empowered by its caretaker
III. Eyes we’ve shared pass through time like the rose to a petal fluffing the breeze till It makes its recourse back to the earth I recall a memory of you in a moment of birth and of dying And haven’t even jotted one note about when I first saw you in sunlight The memory exceeds me much like the innocence of a child, long after suffering as an adult Long after that child has grown to love and love again and felt the fullness of death pulsing within love, Your memory remains in a memory And today I bury my palms deep within your stomach and mouth and struggle to remember How sure I was that you’re mine
IV. Little by little I have learned satisfaction by all shapes and weights And once it has gone on, I know that dawn is taking upon us a justice on your Shoulders that mingle in the oceans of sheets like two bags of coins magnetically drawn together till washing ashore And in the morning, I’m sure it’ll dwindle down to the heaven That we drape over our sorrow; to the hope we sell inside our sleep To the existence you work into my shoulders as your hands tease me like a yellow star in my dreams You awake to the spring of my alarm Seeing you swim to me as your lips full bloom
V. All the places I’ve been Had something to do with fleeing And goodbyes were never retraced into anything else but the happy harpoons of solitude Now, your two clenched fists stitch together my ancient sheets and the hours of the clock humble me As I dial points to poems like circles to wood, like perfectness to hearts And all the places I’ve been don’t matter Unless I pass along the vibrations in fresh grass, the amazement of harmony To the honor of your famous sleep Maya, And now you’ve turned my thunderous clap on the keyboard keys to fable Goodnight my love, sleep full stories, I lay dreamless In visions of you — with me — wandering in a city with no walls.