The low blue current
kinetics the room.
A lamp trembles.
Your name warms
the rim of my mouth.
The bass leans close.
Our shadows loosen,
turning circles, slow,
around the earth’s sleeping heart.
I bring you a little fire.
You return it as flame
at my neck,
as salt, as honey,
as the first red note
of morning.
Wake, wake, Bride.
The world opens by degrees,
heat gathering
in our hands.
