(you know how this ends)
i am glad as summer days
smooth, bright, joyous pressed into me you
like the first of june against its second
we meet at the kiss planted and stretch, reaching
like branches taunting lightning with each touch
and, breathe deep,
let's wrap your prior storms around my tongue, restless
i am bursting them into the first mist of morning,
holding you fast, grasping, against the break of day
and – crash – you bend, twisting
like breezes connecting against green fistfuls of healing,
making hymns from purple air, the pleasant heavy velvet evening in your lungs
tuned ultraviolet, lilting with that sacred taste indulged
we feed our incandescence, playing at synthesis till you beg, pulling
with all the swallowing need of leaves eating light and
harmonies passing through (you are my senses, mostly
the slash of fire through your eyes, your clavicles and purple painted toes,
the colour red always, like rose thorn through birdheart) one sinuous melody
and then the rush –
the sunlight of unsteady thirsting rhythms, like pulses quickening
pulling the other never closer enough and so colliding like thunder with earth
until you hear the summer humming alleluia all along you as it always does
and we're writhing electric, smashed, shattering
into light through and marrow, gasping crushed amethyst
until there is no till –
only the winter bloom at end, leaves falling, and the summer solstice fading
as we bleed deep like blossoms do when they rest, connected
spring colour staining the earth young with their love
and, as lavender has, still, after
so many rains, the sweetest sting of beauty
(i have the breathless wonder of you here with)