I hope you talk in poems,
touching my insides with
words painted in flames.
my sun in the glass,
the crystal of the hours undoning
my grief;
roses picked in small vowels,
the spirit of the letters lightening
my perpendicular urge for more.
i hope
to love with my palms open
as Vaults sing, as our reflexes
sigh on the mirror suspended
between two infinites.
mango trees casting their last shadow,
verbs unbuttoning flamboyant trees,
your eyes announcing my goddess.
our muses whispering incantations.
a poetic spell before we collapse
and as i translate the untranslable,
you speak in tongues
we both need to survive.
