We speak in the languages of shooting stars,
full moon skies,
and contagion-laced mystics.
Far too often
words are spoken. Full-flung with
daggers and spears,
but I am always the
first to retreat
because,
I believe,
there are larger
ideals at
stake.
Being the victor never quite
mattered as much as the universe
encapsulated within your tongue.
We are immortals,
casting our nets
into primordial waves.
Only to you, my Beloved,
am I true.
Speak to me under the moon.
Allow my body to howl at
midnight’s pinnacle—
For I roar the loudest
beneath you.
My Life
My Love
Infinite.
(For L.G.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem