Under the sky’s silhouette
our eyes run rivers
and the heat of our hearts shiver
The mantling is heavy
and expansive;
and what should be warm
is afraid
The space between our fingers is none.
The air between our mouths is gone.
But the worlds between our hearts are laden
with fleshly chests
The flesh is heavy,
and cold;
and what should be certain
is painful
The rain goes away,
the stars twinkle,
and the treetops rock,
as we play hide-and-seek
Count to twenty,
and no peeking.
Next door, sleep lovers.
Next door, they run around.
And next door, they go outside
But no peeking
And next door, sleep Jack and Jill
