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What you told me
Was to write a poem
About the night sky:

How the stars look,
Back against the pliant desert.

About how
Jungle meteor showers
Gleam beyond reason,

And I’m trying to.

What you told me
Was to write a poem
About travel,
And I said yes, how
About about how
Even though
Thousands of miles divide
Us, when
I look up at that fat, yellow moon,
I’m seeing the same luscious moon
As you, and that is a form
Of travel, too. And later,

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I will open my hand and
Imagine your lips, feel
Them press into my fingertips.
I will get lost like this.

Blame your palpable sweetness,
Intrinsic and undeniable.
I am transported,
Floodlit honey.
I close my eyes and
Let myself marosa-
Drown in your golden unfolding.


Photo Credit: “Sparking Light” by James_J8246