Name Who Shelters Me

Here i, ai. “a” “i”. Write “love” in your own tongue.

Here i, call me ki, call me “soul” in my tongue.

Here i, i i : i i, four i's, two pairs of i's, yours, mine, think the time.

Here i, wish of i, wish with me, i's on me, your i's look to my i's.

Here i, to gaze at the moon of you and i.

Here i, lie. Your i to mine, make it wax so your name spells “L” “i” “i”.

Here i, with your name Lii, with two i's, you look love with an l then y.

Here i, with love with a i, i love your i’s.

****

Longing for Waning Distance

Tethered to the clouds straggling

hanging wishes found as the moon’s tears

dewing on our flowers like they have to come true.

Let’s make wishes engaged to bloom at the time we do too.

I’m floating on the point of you 

if your heart could balance me,

my petals might roll on the wind’s lips to breathe as you

for my flowers languish to lie in your crescent moon.

Clouds turned to gray roses, gaze turned from 

the clouds to the moon to you.

You, from me, given roses, please let me let you 

give me the night of a moon.

Moonshot, moonshine, moonshrine I idolize

like I pray for overcast days when the whole sky is of you.

I'm as close to you as the person I'd want to be, to be true, 

as close as he is to the clouds of you, and I'm only in dreams 

as close to you as a cloud to the moon.

****

Eclipsed with He

The moon, and the night, do something to me.

Imagine, fluorescent orange, the black

sating wishes I dearly pine could be;

colors together you and, with I, lack.

Bristling textures, of a, deepening peach.

They are vast, enough, to hold my pining, 

but not enough, for you, me to beseech;

wistful words of yours are my hearts lining.

But pronouns I want to be, eclipse, am,

his pronouns he wants to be, she says, are,

he planted in, new heart for her to stem.

She was never, as in, his dreams, this far.

She wants him to sink upwards, to the moon.

He knows not, his heart, for her, not too soon.

****

Body Of

Our fingers brushing off cliffed 

knuckles of the other’s palms,

from skin to skin sewn blemishes from pressure

so her reddening paints my blushes;

flowers as faces from this exist.

Her lashes allure by blossoming into petals,

tears molt off my hands that were meant to cover;

anchored by her voice weighted in whispers,

linked by lips as chains that dress the barring sea

with a fragrance which floats,

while I pain, 

as my eyes pricked learn to sink bleeding too.