Reverie

 

I would sew paper to your face,

hem your brow-line copper.

Your eyes, marble stare, purple vase of years

asking mirrors for pittance.

Veins scale you, mountainous maelstrom,

stands me naked in the night—

minnow forced along Deer Creek,

pockets under the mud crickling,

beetle hunch burrow.

I would dance tables on your back,

web your silken banks.

Usurping grape vine, brass bell and bee,

paling moon strum saves me from the night—

dare me to stare desire red.

Odder things have happened,

dry dirt gets handed out in paper cup stilettos.

Whether those people riding Deer Creek

notice us picking with sticks

the willow cud twinkling,

blackberry inkling shadows.

I would grow through your spine,

tree trunk cotton pace,

taste it on your breath days later

hardly there but glaring—

devotes its time to stall the walls

from climbing in.