Tiring of fate, we push down the seats of the Volvo
and sleep to the steady hum of this breathless heaven
the moon rising like stones in our throats
is it too much to ask? I want this night to live in my bones
—Patricia Smith, "Climbing to Erice" Big Towns, Big Talk
In this dream we are huddled together under a palm tree
only our backs visible, robed in coconut meat and husked corn.
I carry them in my hips and suck the jasmine
leaves from your skin, freckled like mustard seeds
flung into the stars, we are nubivagant.
slivered skies poke our shoulders,
I can’t remember all the sounds we don’t make.
Invisible, we balter each other’s bodies—
tiring of fate, we push down the seats of the Volvo
sheer onto this path to becoming, the Bay of Bengal swells
into the earth as you wrest the soil from my fists,
release the grime from behind my nails with rose thorns
while I search for another word for sunlight
spreading, you use fish bones and bamboo thicket to embank
and stop the light from shattering.
your back holds all your hurt and fantasies as you work
I watch you cry when the music fades, and
What a Little Moonlight Can Do
swallows itself in the distance, the car radio sinks into the sand,
we burrow
and sleep to the steady hum of this breathless heaven
we found an epic gateway to these half moons gushing,
I blink away the sleep and press my fingers into your neck
you plate my fish with smoked syrup, unthickened and runny,
bellies bursting, we are quenched.
you straddle silence as you listen to the stars crunching under my feet
and still, I hear you pining
for me I whisk memories of loneliness and lust from my cartilage
line the dirt with patchwork quilts, simmer into your familiar.
we wake to waves thrashing the shoreline,
the moon rising like stones in our throats
Still, growing as our past bodies whizzed toward full.
Now, catching our breath comes easy
like cavernous sleep we drift into the dim.
I wake to the lingering scent of coconut milk
pluck the tea leaves from between my teeth
trace my finger along the blueprint
of your shadow warm beside me heating
I lose myself in the shape of your absence
a hollowed-out lacuna in my marrow, waxing
is it too much to ask? I want this night to live in my bones
