new dawn touches the lake 
as your eyes bathe my skin
songbirds and windchimes
compete for prominence,
windows open, among the drift
roses as you press (spilling open)
inside again and again

the gravel in your moan (telling me what I
understand) dies in the back of your throat
as you lick the salt from my neck,
sun spilling the man colored
blanket I want to lie under and soak up
all day

it’s the drift, the knock out, a particular
type of rose, more time spent unfurled than
in a bud (and how you know the place)
you mimic naturally. in your constant state
of unrehearsed chaos, post-climax lips
press love into my needy kiss

(the soft corals of spring you place on my
apricot mouth, allow me to learn you through
the color of trust, and day breaks inside
your lakeside eyes)