—YOU MAKE PERFECT LOOK EVEN BETTER

                              

                              Apogee in the Void

I meet you in the void, near midnight, the masking tape evening all ours, with nothing to see but black on black.

We talk by touching, everything edges or slick--a protruding rib, a low-hung star, my nodding erection.

At once your tongue is a busy salamander coiled inside my ear, then waxing my chin and nose, until I’ve become a papier-mâché man, recklessly glued, wearing frayed strips of you. 

This is an evening that will never end, so we teach ourselves how to dance in the dark, the right way to dip, lift, and separate, though we never do quite separate. 

There is no floor or ceiling.  No box that contains us.  Just this unique universe meant only for us.

You glide through me, a fertile ghost, as I sing you open with an improvised tune and a blade of spiced air.  When you request an encore, nudging my neck with a nose as warm as toast, I sing you every secret I’ve never told.  I sing you life everlasting.

Our breaths collect, then swim through the shredder, becoming ticker tape confessions that float around us like a bouquet of butterflies. 

Your fingers find me, undo me. 

Nails drag across the scruff of a neck, raising more hair.  Nails pinch and snag pliant flesh.  On purpose.  On the cusp of painful, but on the right side of bliss.

When we kiss, the sky convulses and waves of onyx wind swing with us, two conjoined boats unsteady on the sea. 

As we move onto the next steps, the scenery changes.  A lemon sun peeks over the mountains, showering the world with unvarnished light.

But we don’t see it.