Full Moon Reflecting off the Peaks
As snow does to a fire
gods who bit flowers of ink
a nest of mad kisses down the long black river
the milky way sky’s pale vertebrae
archipelagos of stars
framed between small branches
blossoms of small arms , nails us naked to the color
of pink hyacinth singing singing
in deep red ripples
your voice is a pale street lamp on calm black water
just (a word planted by the water
before I am a stone in a stone-swallowing river
thrown
into
sleep
your eyes
(This was published at South Broadway Ghost Society, a website out of Denver)
