follow what feels good

holy crud you have sunk your mandibles
into the flesh of my touchy existence you
feather plucked from the pore of an extra-
vagant bird you creepy-crawling light-loving
well-meaning winged wonder i'm so got damn
over-the-wall wasting away in your garden
smelling my breath or is that all just a spectre
hanging 'round my hopefulness the shape
of your legs draped over mine the dips
and bone-hooks of your back i am building
a map in my sleep ripping this spell out of me
sinking my feet into whatever wheels turn
furiously for aching six months pent up
and resisting onslaught of bitter thoughts
i lost my touch but you were there & found
it tearing pages from the far-within sigh
folding into close-held vehemence before
relenting to the stand-still of our mobius strip
kiss god i cannot say this any other way
you beckoned me then went & wrecked me
this childish limerence spins the worst
lullabies & every window is a mirror
without you softly sleepily laying across
my lap lasting for once i said to you
i wish that i could kiss you everywhere
and always the sorrowful bridge of fingers
collapsing as you pull away & glasses
getting stuck in your hair i am memory-sick
gluing the mosaic of our evening onto
dark-sky murals rippling with love-score
& maybe i am completely unchanged
but i will never forget who i was before
you said that can be arranged