Cushion-deep, his scent circles me
and my thoughts
elemi, pink pepper and geranium
followed by cedar,
with fingers that trace the overhead sky–
moonless in its apparition.
With each breath, a new promise takes root
my canary heart colliding with the wild sky of darkness
every sense in return is heightened.
I place my poems birthed from his ribcage
into a jar
and wait as night turns into morn;
the only remnant
being a lipstick mark which offers his yearning not rest.
Photo credits: Aaron Westerberg, 1974, Pinterest
Skylover Wordlist: Circle, moonless, apparition, root, canary, cage ❤️
Posted for the Writer’s Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United