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rumor has it
that our skin is
like the gecko’s
misunderstood
or
perfectly content

I keep –

rumor has it
we died on the coast
just tears from a yawn
in some cosmic eyelash

looked back –

some far fire
in our house
lit up
by the lights
glimmering
off mountain snow

bent grass

form around our backs

how –

I don’t black my eyes
for nights
that are sweet

a rocky ship
–
rivers

no

we wept for ourselves

and for the other

I want clear
I want clear meaning
raw roses
to wipe the sweat off my brow