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.