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.