your eyes constellate my dreams into a butterflysilk
web spun softer than candy floss but denser than
the concentration of stars in a cordless clear sky.

cordless, because i do not think there are any strings
worthy enough to hold up stardust, i tell you when we're
ensconced on the broken couch & watching dramas

with your thighs under mine, warm and burning like the stove.

you laugh at me & pull the blanket so it drapes around
our collarbones like a breath of the sea, opaque and seeking
crimson warmth from within us like we’re radiators.
we go to sleep, twisted up until i lie half on top of you,

until you can turn your head just a bit & press your lips to
my neck. there is no moon hung up on the misty backsplash
of the sky today, but there is one inside our home & she wears
your skin like a gold-flecked anklet. & i swear,

when i looked into her eyes, i could see every dream i'd ever had
dislocated into the tendrils of your iris, wanting for nothing except
someone to hold them in their pupils & kiss them goodnight. & once again
i am relieved the moon chose you to bless with slippery translucency.