we stand here on love’s doorstep,
drifting apart in seasons of arousal
on the doorstep’s island-like shore;
its intimate chambers, its pearl delights,
a door that shelters us by her shell,
away from all the prying of control.
we stand here on love’s doorstep,
our time fragmenting in tunes
that flicker like lizard tongues
through long histories of betrayal;
Drowning in light, the honeyed stone
separations that sing to us in shards
of all that composed your beauty;
Impossibly you aged like the sea’s
skin, soft with the waves of youth.
we stand here in love’s doorway,
our lives, a hunger bright as lying eyes,
unfurl as illicit landscapes on city walls;
a look so animal and so natural
it stirs the wild variations of this music,
watchfully steering our direction
out towards an ocean, siren of screams.
we stand here in love’s doorway,
our a-political dreams of better days
recede like an isthmus of impossibility
to the blood red of furthest horizons,
something like a still petal of death;
and islanded by loss that will not leave
we stand here at death’s doorway;
and cling and sing out over the viral waters,
‘ tell me, will we never meet again,
and what will we say to each other,
if by all the drift of the currents we do.’