(no subject)

[____syzygy]

I.
if you had those heavy plum-tipped fingers
i know youd let your blood
for me

pricking your swollen digits upon the spindles 
and briars of your mother's laugh
cutting them on the dark edges of her mirth

if you had those heavy plum-tipped fingers 
i know youd prick them 
as you pierced your palm 
vaulting over a wrought-iron fence

in your adulthood
you fingers are unladen
but already they roam over me and split

spilling your nectar-flecked drug
of dreamt numbers and shortened achilles tendons
and pollen and peppers and spit

II.
you are medicinal 
you speak machine prose 
you are a magician priest
you are memory proud

ill mention something in passing

i forget that you listen

you collect those shiny ponies of history
and proudly trot them out

you surprise me everytime

III.
you don't like when i put my tongue in your ear

but
weve tangled
between nebula heavy blanket
and rudy hellfire sheets
on a tiny bed
in a room without blinds or sight

and i love putting my tongue in your ear

IV.
our flesh pounds out miles of code to the chinese revolutionaries
but mao wouldnt approve of the content

and we match the cargo ships with the decibels of our organs
but the only freight we hold
are these endless murmur-sleep words

and they dont weigh anything at all

V.
our eyes though
our eyes are graced with the mercury 
of a full silver night
and the room is thick with you

you smell like passover 
and freckles and copperwire beard

and i inhale deeply

in the night 
we braid these doughy limbs
into sacred heaven bread

sunlight baked us
and weve been softened so our happy hides stick
but the spine is stubborn 
and our lovely bones snaggletooth

so we force our angles and joints into various slots and positions
tweaking and turning and stirring the sediments of night
waking to adjust and admire and sleeping to sweat and wake again

we deliver thanks to the gods
on our altars of flesh 
with closed eyes
with moist and open mouths

i awake again to find your scratchy face on mine
your copperwires laced with beads of sweat
your freckles dancing in the heat

we are unwashed and our sweat is aging but we are young and the blood sings

VI.
where we part  our skin pulls
the sweat has mortared our hides 
it will not rend as easily
as daybreak

VII.
i smile to remember earlier 
when i was sitting in the backseat of your friends car
and you worried over my seatbelt

IIX.
the night is an old gray dog limping back into a well-lit kitchen 
but weve thrown it the bones of our exhaustion
to gnaw at while curled our feet 
and to hopefully stay its departure

the bones have pleased our friend
and it is worn by its toothy exertions 
satiated, it can curl into itself and doze

but we are not and won't
we can only sink deeper
and wrap tighter in the sheets and the time

IX.
your fingers form drum circles on my side and thigh
and you are utterly unashamed

i am soaked in wonder 
i am used to pain
i am apt to hide

but you pull me closer and

tap out numbers to the safety deposit boxes behind my knees 
pop the hinges wide with ease

you pull me closer and

your stubble meets mine and
the limping night is dark and hot