cooling moon
shuttered light-well to Oz
captivated
driving walking standing
poised upon a ledge that has become too comfortable
what is it
this change of season?
is it autumn?
ding dong the witch is dead autumn
no
it is more
this otherworldly tincture of days
this moonglow spell of night
casting ancient dreams from yellow school buses & winged horses
constellations shift shadows into suspended seconds
lace underwear, football & fearlessness
casting visions
longing to be 10 .. ok ... maybe 15ish
lanky--full with secret words in my pockets
we make out in grass, on beds, on bikes, in rivers . . because we can
because we are 15ish
well,
you can be sixteen with your tamed arrogance & mahogany bones
the milky way & every nasturtium belong to us
I know what you look like in mornings
and can smell you on my skin
innocence seeds trust long fired in the bowels of mordor & mirth
bodies lithe & limber twined naked--easy
our tongues play cribbage against lips curious
and sure
sure of us
paused on backs flat upon earth sumac-red-deep
and
soft
suddenly
electric panes of glass slide
revealing
home
in
the moon
