honey & lime

aries to the east 

you are all edges and elbows; wooden

corners, splinter in my fingertip. i 

am out of season, collecting yesterdays

like a child with insects, ignorant of 

their inevitable escape through cracks

in a stolen shoebox. our existence

is not cosmic. we are not the sum of 

stars, let us dream of lighthouses instead:

i will not move my eyes from you, if you

open yours a little wider, let it

guide you, a wavelength, a knowledge, our shared

expanse. allow the night to roll away

the sun, allow the world to sleep. does your

mouth get weary of obscuring your mind? 

let yourself live where my splintered fingers rest, 

balloons on a ceiling, the innocence

of it draped over your shoulders like an 

unkind silk illuminating every 

contour. in this, the eleventh month of

opportunity, without a single 

step taken and hands left half-empty. 

i cannot wish upon cosmic shifts – 

some things will never be in our nature.