your fleshed body is a wide expanse of gold-bronzed field-
little hilled curves that forever rise and fall in your breathy unwake.
you let me drink, my love, of the
secluded pond in your midst- and sleep
between your sweet sun-satin thighs.
i could remain for eternity at your beck and call,
tangle my limbs within your red-winged blackbird hair,
and experience your earth-stained lips.
it is all i desire; your feverish dream:
fey, and forthwith, you flood me.
if only i could liken myself to your wind-blown elegance,
wide-eyed fawn, i would thrust myself further into that sky
which tickles your breast, fair
upon sun-bathed bird's wing.
let me fly, your will-o'-the-wisp-
i'll fleetingly touch your honey stalks with my wing tips,
to brush your indulgent scent like perfume upon my body.
richened, i release my breath-
countless molecules of sound
in a cry that blends with wind.
i could be your bird, your lover, for today, and every day.
i'll follow your heartbeat, a lark's song, to forget my troubled pulse;
it lingers in my ears, shudders through
my chest. i know that if i give this willful
muscle to you, i could be weightless.
yet i can not belong to you. the day thus turns dusk, where your
warmths feed me no longer, but turn me chilled upon the ground.
i am alone as you sleep, naked and
mortal once more. but i wake, and
the gold field is but window light.