In the Mirror of a Kiss

We might be just a dot, a stratum,
buried in the layout of ladybug wings,

just an offshoot of a longing
in the branches of a deer horn,

a few blobs
on a moth's
showpiece tapestry,

a few flashes in the splint of a glowworm
inside out,

an elongation
of a wine pitcher shape
to yield to
an intoxicating kiss
in such lascivious red lips,

a scale of a goldfish
dashing
in the crystalline fall of a chandelier.

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Every butterfly portioned us
with the scope of its splendour,
perched us in its wings,
every lavish candelabrum
in the scales of its lustre,
every lover
in the combustion
of its passion,
its lust!

We found our wings in one another
in the mirror,
in the kiss
that sutured all the hearts together
to the distances
of our lips.

though we darned the space,
the slit of separation,
the broken wings,
in our hearts.