Together we chase the sun
Through pools of din
And the half-light of our awakening
Of our wanting;
Of our thirst to be illumined
Reflecting Venus demure, the half moon
Until as fireflies we learn to cast our own light
Celestial grains in the evening sky
Salt of your skin creased and etched
By rivers cutting swaths into
Ancestral loam
And in the bright of day
Washed clean by the sun
Oh how I long to muddy your flesh
Fingers sliding sticky muck across
Nipples supple and suppliant
Until soaked by afternoon heat
And baked on your skin
It cakes, this mortal mud pie
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