When the World Reached a Different Age
I pin my astonishment to his lips.
His black elephant eyes bleeding.
I save the light from under his hair.
Sun. Shadows in his eyelashes
bandy like grapes of a winepress.
I rebuilt the fever, and sunset flutters
in his socks. Him, medium in years,
thirty-seven. I tumble off his neck
when under the briefs
two fragile ships begin to submit.