About the ashes we gather
eye-to-eye breathing, the nocturnal stained sheets
colorblind and strewn
messy as we marched, as in our dreams:
badge beneath tongue
summer sun drinking the shaded purple
of your beard.
It reminded us of
when your eyes were pierced, black hearts flaming
scared even the bullet as the confetti
sucked at your skin,
sucked your skin dry
Gravitated with greater than tectonic love
while
our minutes are roaring,
honey hands transmute
primeval horror of Freudian fourmis
Unleashed.
(the words dug like stars into you and
into you)
so we spend all night dancing, sipping
away dreams
black eyes bleached as we write
of Glory, as in
our dreams.