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ice, you said, always seems to be
found frosted in the strangest of
words, take justice, solstice, even
officer;
and i thought of the hottest sun
burning somewhere far away with
a glacial core thumping below all
that heat as the day bled on across
the night.

we kissed by the water and spoke
in fragments, mosaics of mutual
understanding, or at least that was
my impression;
you held pools of night in the cups
of your palms and i pressed my neck
against the rinds of what was left
as we melted in the haze of a solstice
passing us by.

husks of love, half-shells of charcoaled
oysters, i saw the pearls there under the
water, and the sun lingered a night too long,
caught
watching us make an evening in the
longest day, throwing shade over our
eyes and pretending the pond ripples
were skimmed with stars whispering
back to us.

i have a heart that can only be given
at night, a tongue that lies flat as it
sleeps, the prying eyes of an eternal
sunny sky
caught my edges and frayed, and we
pressed our palms flat to the earth and
tried to kiss our way into the dusk as
if the moon would leap out of the water
for us alone.

(i saw the pearls there, sunken and alive.)

what can be said of an evening that
didn’t exist, what can be told of a
night that never settled, we watched
the water still;
and we spoke of dreams and curtains,
of secrecy and darkness as the ice slipped
its syllables between us too, wrapping a
shard of night in the middle of all this
light.

(i saw the pearls there, a love amongst all these
eyes watching, sunken and alive.)