Stars are only above us if you believe what you see
reality is upside down till our eyes turn it all around.
What makes the mind search for patterns and shapes
in this eye of chaos?
Drawing on the mythology of constellations
is our grammar
to point to
we know nothing
but we don’t know it
cause we’ve got a name for everything
even breaks of light
that might be millions of years dead.
Still, I see stars in sugar grains
Saturn’s rings in coffee stains
and still I dare take cloth and wipe it all away
as my mouth to yours
to kiss your lips clean
opening new galaxies as wide as a handful of sand to the wind
and your mouth shines copper pennies upon the sea
moody, deep, your eyes
taste saltwater tides
the undertow of your lashes carries me over shipwrecks of dead lovers
and every first kiss is a rebirth, a religion
a leap of faith
lead by a heart that hopes it knows where it’s going
prays it won’t break
as horizons are folded in on themselves
and we see more with eyes squeezed shut.