I kneel down to lift you up
you who now
holds me. I ask
nothing, though I offer
my collateral need.

Need wanting the line thinning, thinning
line between the two: wish or prayer.
The stars can't bear the wait.
They fall through sore places worn
across the night. Unresponsive,
bruised and riddled with reckless light
cast back from the origin of dreams.
The first of these kept
vaulted in lead low mystery and
from its offspring; yours.

Countless moored sails and
waiting and questions I'd not dare to
ask you to ask no I don't want
to want. Don't.
There is no lost illusion just
a trade made across the horizon,
encircling where you will pass again.
A dark and hallowed circumference following
the shape's of hunger; one for
every mouth. How similar are ours or
miles apart? Deceptive.

I've never felt
your gaze yet still I wear its sheen
- a humid gloss across my humanity.
The snake-caressed soil reaches back
but nothing's shed so much as lost
to repetition - lover-body-anguish
pull apart to thrust just harder yet;
a moth against the light -
that ache. A wind against a sail-
that beat. Applause amongst the leaves
beneath my feet -
that prevalent voice of reverent thanks.