Where does orange keep itself for
the far end of day? And a lover, who
is not yet as though destiny has run
from its paints.
Let’s play it new, create a pulse, dive
deep and float up, lie on the riverbank,
our toes surfing the water’s edge.
I love you in a blue marble
in my hand, and softly we
flow into everything us.
I complain in bird songs, shouting left
and right in shine, ranting cool summer
breezes and showers for two.
Today, a flock of shadows
crashed through us
leaving behind the kiss.
I am inclined to fall for you.
Call it weakness. Call it appetite.
Call it uprising.
Bringing me flowers, talking away
all the others who came before
you – the currency of rinse.