We were spinning wishes in the phases of the moon that night when our burdens dissolved into a pool of liquid mica. You said divine rebellion is in the air and the darkness is ripe with receptivity.
We escaped the ravages of the Americans and you kissed all my wounds with the way you looked at me.
I brought you Spanish amber and orange blossoms, swept the rain from your porch, and threw flammables on your stars. Your wings were fractured stories that glowed moss-green in the night. In the morning my soul unfolded in concentric circles.
When you fell into a fever I undertook a vigil for forty days and forty nights at the tomb of St. Isadore, where the trees wept openly. I poured antidotes into the well, as the archangel instructed me, and watched your heart swell with joy.
Christ is a prism, you said, the universe is dressed in drag. Currents of light were pulsing all around you. Your tears were infinite mandalas. I had never seen anything so radiant. From then on we lived a life free from apocalyptic decrees. It looked like this:
an orange curtain blows back in a breeze, on the window sill a small terra-cotta vase with a woman's face sculpted into the side holds a single tiger lily. The walls are white. A gentle light, soft as cream flows through the window......
We escaped the ravages of the Americans and you kissed all my wounds with the way you looked at me.
I brought you Spanish amber and orange blossoms, swept the rain from your porch, and threw flammables on your stars. Your wings were fractured stories that glowed moss-green in the night. In the morning my soul unfolded in concentric circles.
When you fell into a fever I undertook a vigil for forty days and forty nights at the tomb of St. Isadore, where the trees wept openly. I poured antidotes into the well, as the archangel instructed me, and watched your heart swell with joy.
Christ is a prism, you said, the universe is dressed in drag. Currents of light were pulsing all around you. Your tears were infinite mandalas. I had never seen anything so radiant. From then on we lived a life free from apocalyptic decrees. It looked like this:
an orange curtain blows back in a breeze, on the window sill a small terra-cotta vase with a woman's face sculpted into the side holds a single tiger lily. The walls are white. A gentle light, soft as cream flows through the window......
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I liked this phrase a lot!
I especially liked We were spinning wishes in the phases of the moon and threw flammable on your stars..
Not so much the universe is dressed in drag because it's contemporary slang, and nearly everything else here seems as if it could be as old as language itself. It suspends the timelessness of the rest of this piece.