Poem in Your Voice
I want to button my beautiful body
to your lovely yours
until we don’t know whose bluejeans
outline our deaths on my floor.
I will be
in all your ticklish spots
and occasional freckles,
And you will become a little more of a man,
and I will parade my new girlishness,
and baby, we will both become newborns,
all red and screaming,
covered with milk and wonder.
And we will suckle at the sky,
and suck the ocean air until we’re salty and blue;
we will rename all the stars
and see things in the clouds
that are better than Van Goghs.
And then I will tire of this set of mysteries.
I will toss a coin for just the right day
and unzip myself from your sweet pie skin.
You see, my life is a somersault, my sweet;
I’ve enjoyed our playtime but I’m in search
of things like God Himself.
I’ll be off to find the tenth planet
with its rivers and rings.
I’ll send you a piece of it,
or a postcard,
and my new moon girl will lick the stamp,
when I find it
and all its eleven moons.