When the World Reached a Different Age

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.