could have accomplished anything
we were saying,
silkpod tongues curling to cocoon in our mouths.
once said we’d build wings like this,
people working together—
study the kestrel, osprey and ibis
fly to heaven, taste the wine, and back.
our committees disbanded and worthless. Fights
crack across the street—
someone felling the gardens of cypress,
someone striking the scribes with a whip,
someone pouring dark honey
the whole Euphrates down.
wound through back-alleys like script curving
from a pen, until I found you, took your tongue
in mine, said with my body,
what I meant.
I was watching two hummingbirds
and shudder, a nectar center.
Pleasure in taste,
pleasure in plump, whirring bodies.
where wings should be.