Poetica Spontenaium 10.11.05
I nuzzled up next to you
with you whispering
moonlight and stars
into my dreams
as they spilled
down my neck
and tore open my shirt.
You forgot, as did I,
how very very sharp
these careless
luminous bodies
can be.
Scraping against throat
Tearing against palms
Blowing kisses of
broken glass
into my eyes.
Are these dirty bombs,
these confessions of love.
I understand, I really do.
And I curl my arms carefully
around their desperate explosion.
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