your voice, the clear sky: a million ways to know that we are in our right moment. the conspiracy of the stars and the crickets now defined by the pressure of your body, the warmth of your laugh.

i am ancient without you, renewed by you and the kind way you say, can i kiss you? i am lack, an ache, Persephone digging toward starlight. the history of my body reads as a gulf opened up in the earth but with you: a sprite, free and clear, in the depths of the quarry.

whether I lure you or you have called me, the result is the same: meteoric, the rising of my pulse when your fingers brush my skin.