Morning Curvature: #1 Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Your hair sprawls over my chest
Like ivies in a ravished tangle
We’ll bend another morning
And fragment into night
I’ll be the moon – your only moon
Whom you whisper your
Musings to, and I’ll answer
With an emollient breath of
Your favourite perfume
That wafts like the morning wind.

And you ask me
How many women I’ve been with,
Build flames with
And I unfolded a scant list -
You laughed in disbelief
As I enter a slow decay,
Watching that garish smile
Turn to a wry
But I can’t complain,
The skyline is bent
The vicious wind cuts the clouds
And there you are
Infinite under the same
Roof beam,
Fluorescence of the lamps
Juxtaposed to the windowpanes.

And you ask me
About my aesthetic
I am distracted by your heaving breaths,
The clarity of the heavens
Interspersed with yours:
I am baffled.
A seraph?
Or just a mere mortal?
The furniture in front of us
Breathes, the contour of your nose
Is accentuated as the Sun
Lands in poetry upon your surface.
The Sun flared.
You gleamed.
I held my breath.