I want to live like a lit body. Limbs visible in the dead of
night to a nocturnal man. To lips praising the length of fire
and hands miming an ode to sun and Sappho. I will never know
how to spin and stand. No Aphrodite resides in my nesting place.
Just the world’s caprice and my soaked feet. For a moment I
gather her golden chickpeas, in seconds of kissing, a touch heavy
enough to fill the earth. Body opening like a spring umbrella. What
is the right way to accept an offering? Bow like a dandelion
in the thick red rain. At dawn, there is a skinned rabbit in my bed
and I know a heart sunk is a heart extinct. Memory is the bone
chewed in the haste of the feast. I live in the age of analogy: I am
a tiger pacing in wait. I am a sparrow on the last flight. A fox amongst
millions. We must pause. We must be vigilant for signs of love.