Is it a blush
That reddens your soft white cheeks?
Did he wake you up past midnight
With a soft searing kiss?
Are you naked in satin skin unwaxing
With yellow crayon-fingers swimming circles
Over your bare back in a rhythm of blue?
So you trace tresses his hibiscus scent in snores
Of aftermoon naps,
Did he garland in you
an origami knife
that unfolds a paper-blood heart?
Won't you Icarus a December rain
Sea the sky back and wilt fire his
in the inside of your cheek?
18/12/20
