there’s something archaic, biblically striking

when after waking You say “Phenomenal” to me

and nothing else for days

You lie there, chest heaving

steadily turbulent, lightness

giving wing to desires

abstract You, absent of design

articulate in breath

there’s something beautiful about the sounds

You make to no one

(pretend I’m not here, do this now.)

(call me on the phone, do this now.)

my Universe erupts when You obey

those sounds You make to no one-

I hear them, I hear that You’re alive

I hear the husk, the grumble

I know Your tongue is swishing

unknowns

like honey off a spoon I perch-

gasping hope for You to do

what You don’t know

(I can’t tell You

how)

Your elemental nature, my secrecy to lose

I conspire and design within you

unmapped tombs