These songs of reckless longing
From a thousand potholes
filled with rain
one lonely moon looks up
and searches for its mirror
somewhere in the sky,
between the angry breath of
clouds and pin prick stars.
And I have come to sing to you.
I bring to you these
gifts of reckless longing;
to mirror the perfection
that I see in face and hips,
a flash of thigh,
the curve of lips -
I hold your beauty like a
prayer; like sculpted breath
that seeks to know your form.
My heart’s a hollow filled
with rain, that only
serves to hold these
perfect images of you.