To M.LETTER II
M.,
I watch
as your freckled helioglobe
winter away in the spring dawn.
As you chase — I am amazed — ludicrous warmth.
O, to extort
a measured cataphaton.
Only now,
We wind up the fallen tower.
I am wound around your arm.
Me, an earth child
catching warmth
and you, mesatone to the dark:
a heaven strewn star garden.
Magic spirals in and pulls taut
the likes of silk mellowing in my doubled-over heart.
Honey do you believe me…
I see
a hundred thunderstorms turning
play-fins to your sour, puckering sky;
the neptune of my eyes watering to your gravity.
I have forgotten away our sun as you brew
lumens and catch
fireflies,
gently, so gently
in your tousled glass mane.