Yes After All

Eyebridge lifts drawing out the fever,

stepping from squall of tickled visions.
So begins hungry jostling of the lever,
recovering still from delight’s incision.
Flesh flowers and constellated teeth
lodged in the peripheries, walls of normalcy
a-crumblin’. Ornate and functional as a wreath.
Traversing through open mouths with no itinerary,

terrified of moisture in motion, of every shift
stuck in transition, of your hot liquefied eye,
tramping my path through blank snowdrifts,

consenting to another day, content with the lie.
If death springs from the melting aperture,
hope it takes these thoughts of us together.