Lazuli

Okay I have 6 minutes to write a poem

I’ve been drinking

and truth be told I’m not entirely done.

Unfortunately, 

your distance makes me feel warmer 

as if the way you reciprocate

every other moon

brings more brightness

to the skies claimed 

under your name.

The way you bury yourself

rather than leave me to appreciate

the nuance of air

renders all wandersome thoughts

shovels, built into my wrists

the pulse of me

calling to your subsurface 

frequency.

Erupt

that I might again

say, “hello,

how is your morning 

and, beyond carving

lapis out of clouds,

how might I better

the stride of your soaring?”

Sunberry Touch

Embers fall from your eyes

as you blink away the shy flames

of our centered gaze.

 

Base intentions rise

quelled only by inner fountains

set to sprinkle on Saturday–

noon time, splintered sun tans,

tentative rays.

 

Campfire veins fail to cool

even as summers come to close.

Ample airings of argent hues

clenched, bark worn toes.

 

Speak with lips softened

by separate encounters

each time,

a step closer

to our shared heat.

 

Dancing tongues only know

so many steps.

We grew feet for a reason.

 

Remember the first time

the sun claimed your flesh as its own?

I fear the same of our first touch.

 

Burn me, afternoon lover

with the sunberry juice

of your blue sky brush.