I was mercurial, and growing
In the calloused silver of morning,
I’d pry the german summer
from its velvet coffer, offer it
the chemistry of a wingspan
when it tastes smoke. You were lodged
like a tooth in its fish fat.
Still, you arrived with water
chestnuts for eyes and a
cichlid lipped mouth
dilated for wanting.
These were the wet & wayward
beginnings, darkening where we let them.
Hesperus, the evening star,
once caught me peeling the skin
of an aspen and crawling inside,
where you sucked the bloodsap
from my wood. I unhorsed the horse
and unmooned the moon
licking the salt from your hooves.