the clothes we shared stare me down on the door

of a closet unheard, but when we met

i plucked watermelon and spoke and swore

as if venus shattered stone hearts set

in doubt and fear; and i’d like to know how

words feel lilting against your lips like leaves

of willows in the wind, but to allow

the moon and sun an ardent eclipse thieves

the stars of a steward. and for your name

to be one of song and dance is a bleak

irony for a pale lady aflame

with highland fervor taunted into meek

fingers and thoughts. confide in me desire

you’ve never shared under skies retired

from a day of drudgery in the fog

between bridges, brown rivers, and prologues

of stories written in irises; blink

away tomorrow like tears because we’ve

only tonight to strum cool maiden pink

skin stained red by snow. find me at the eve

of anarchy, clutching devil’s nettle

to my chest; cast a stone into my mind,

my lady decked in plaid, violet petals

in our hair decorate a love confined

to cabinets. so watch me as i hold

my breath instead, sated by the glimpse of

blue loch eyes and lavender skies gone cold

from the wan promise of a someday-love.

what if we wore corsets of whalebone and held

oil lamps and charcoal between our fingers, what

if we sang with the birds caught between the window

and the mirror? you’ll take the salt and i’ll take the wax,

full and golden like gods’ blood, but darling, we’re

taming demons tonight.

first, love, you’ll paint me with woad and black

like the leaves of tomes spilled about our feet, but

will you watch the dye seep into my skin like

blood drips from noses to floorboards?

darling, cast away your collar and skirts, this is

women’s work, brutal business.

dress a chignon with rue and violets and string

rosemary and river rock ’round your pale neck;

let the lily’s blood pass from my lips to yours.

i’ll dust your shoulders with lapis, i’ll linger

on the freckles, but love, don’t spill the salt

when you shudder.

candles tickle fingers and laces, but the circle’s

cast and all that’s left to do is dance around

the truth of lust; take the devil in your arms and

waltz because she’s the only gospel you have now;

can you feel the flame above us, darling? whisper

sacrilegious incantations in my heart.

then pray to your paranoia, love, and

ask that we’ll never be found.

i know there’s not much to a box of used crayons

when labor day gives them away,

but do you remember the oiled pigment

staining your fingernails, staining your shoes

when they ground beneath the carpet and the soles?

do you remember your smile, your squint, your childish

determination and pride? you scribbled the world at

dusk and i asked why we still watch sunsets if

we know how they end.

and did you hear the music threading through

lawn mowers and storms last night, did you dance with me?

i should’ve guessed that the stars preferred

the sun to the moon (like calls to like), but maybe

they needed a silent love. still, your heart

beats like cicadas’ wings and i thought it would

keep me awake forever (and i thought for once

that would be alright).

and we never did get to play chess

but i’ve still got you in check;

it’s your move.