For Eliza

For Eliza

There is a swan that holds together the glass fragments of my spine with the elegant curve of her neck
            and tucks my worries into her feathers like fish tuck the oceans under their gasping,
            gleaming scales
When the evening rests its languid fingertips over the sky line
            you can see her weaving thin effervescent nets out of the rippling water
            and catching glass shards and skipping stones between the meshes of thread

Your laugh is tender and surging
            and its when our shoulders shake and tremor brilliantly [like silent thunder] that I know
            we grip the same pulsing, swelling frequency at the speed of delight

And for every glass shard that escapes the salty pulling of the water's lips
a memory - of you and I - breaches the knitted surface as well
            The night we tucked ourselves in the dunes
            Felt the sand bite our naked skin like salt
            and bathed in starlight until the moon blistered high above Orion's belt
For every skipping stone that swims under our eyelids:
            Simmering on rooftops, listening to the wild howling timbre of our dreams
            the shifting of sand whistling through our spines
            and tasting the sun for copper
Our sooty reflection in the night tide windowpane
            Sighs ricochet off of our rattling teeth and drip from our quivering lips
            we pull at the beating, blushing fist in our chests like a blister
            and I catch your storm-bitten gaze sifting through midnight's thick, viscous oil

we dance in the dark

The June sky blinks lapis lazuli from her lashes
and follows the long, dreamy gait of your worries as they walk from your hips to my collar bone
Your fragile neck shakes soft feathers for me to bury my face against
[I melt like nectar in the curve of your neck]
and we wink secrets between the different pulses of our wrists and of our thumbs
             the chestnut leaves drop burgundy and citrus when you're away
                                                                         she's settled in my mind like ashes
            like bleach
                                                                        i miss the way she speaks
            shh. and I miss you

The windowpane gathers frost as we stare at ourselves
It shivers
whispers for us to unfold our silhouettes
and shift them into paper swans

and so we do.