Before your Eyes

You fold your wings
as coward leaves
behind the knots
of your shoulders.

I want to dice this
apple into your mouth,
undo creation, head
south. Be your morning

star, take the stalk
and toss it; dust
into the atmosphere,
no fear no more.

Your feathers turn
to hair, your wings to
white skin. Light
breaks upon your back,

your collar bones.
When day dies,
fades, flies into bats,
clouds tangle night,

your lips, my tongue,
all into one dirty drip
of pale light
and blurring violins.

I want to stare you
down on to the page,
just trip with me
into the stream,

spit feathers, fall
don't fly, kiss me,
intertwine, learn me
line by line, grow

into a tree if need be,
sing, speak, don't dream.
Tuck those leaf-wings
up behind your back,

shiver lead to mercury,
promise what you want
to promise me, shimmer
down the river in my arms.