The air connects us.
Friendship fires the line; it isn't
that I'm guided by this cut
I dreamt your heart sustained, whetted
in extraordinary pasts, all exes lost.
I'd rather scrub those garments
in your company, the suds rising,
sublimates of sentimental marsh
our evolution clarified. Drink to this
like lunar crystal sharding ice.
I'm pelted, you're volcanic.
Rotation of the arc, signalling
with beauty of its own, dangerous, swift,
coating dailiness with rays
that wait with tremor, and surmise.
The elements have history
the universe, an intimacy
as tangible as melted snow,
the thought of your home, our conversation
touching the fragility of music.