Forget all that you knew about warming.
A red cardinal turning grey of a glass heart.
 
All you didn’t know of dancing on the moon.
Zooming in on a tree and opening to it.
Red wood. Red bird.
 
Pine roasted, you were grilling over an open flame.
You were swimming above a blue lake.
You were asking a friend what color of green her day was.
 
Forget all that I didn’t know of the patterns of stems,
that calling names is just another way of claiming the weight
 
of you, which is to say when I learn
your first word — light — I unlove
and love you right then, just to feel
it full again – this bird song, this green
house, this lemon pith of warmth.
Our own floating city.
 
Forget what month we devoured with citrus,
that fog can fill us too.
That in sleep, our bodies are just white tissue
contained within flutes of streetlight.
 
Forget the rules of gravity.
Forget locking the door.
 
This home is my home and yours.
We wake to burnt blood oranges,
coffee humming, un-shelling ourselves —
the new sun resting her lungs
on a deck of a hill house.
 
The moon caked in lemon peels,
hollowed cavities where we creviced into sleep,
inlets where we danced fog-bent and silly, made rainfall,
showered below open pines, gathered moonshells, seas,
patterned our breath, tangling,
untangling and tangling again into the glass nest we call
this warming, you call
this shade of sage, this waxing
love year, this unfastening of name song.
Nick, I say, it’s always warm again.  

the sun and the moon are not lovers
the sun and the universe are
the sun’s kisses to the universe are
known to you and i, as the stars

The Moon’s Love

You’ve always told me about your obsession with the late night sky,

How the stars lay across the bleek black canvas like white dotted paint,

As the moon stood for all to see,

I remember that night when you had no complaints,

You sat amongst the ruins with your head towards the moon,

And you asked, “Why is the moon so lonely?” on that very day,

And I could only utter out a small answer to your lingering question,

“Maybe its lover is too far away?”

You looked at me with confusion smothered all over your face,

“But why is there distance when there is love?”

The moon doesn’t see the sun often but it still loves the same,

That kind of love is, well–hard to get rid of,

Because distance doesn’t always break people up,

Distance teaches people patience and trust,

And without all of that,

The moon and the sun’s love would just be stardust.

~ heart2heartwritings