untitled draft

untitled draft read by Shell

The fallen are so beautiful on the flat-line roof.
Golden hues leave me wanting to make love
in the debris, risk moon folly’s be’st,
climb your ribs on wild fingertip and tongue.

Wind upturns hard veins, they spin to face
a glass reflection facing me; there’s more
to come than playing on the dead, I sing,
thinking of your eyes in mine right now.

cabin talk

Let’s push time outside the rain,
it can play instead with that
howling cat who won’t
be silenced, give us chance
to dare this chaos, climbing walls.

It’s been dark all day and though
breathing’s harsh in fever,
passion’s got the upper hand
set on magic while the other traces
hip and brow with steamy earth.

Clock’s ticking, buried in the golden
leaves, let’s not hear it bleating
order, not just yet or ever,
there’s a ceiling to traverse leading
to the sky in wayward gasp.