NAVIGATION TRANCE

conditioner for a meteor shower
to keep heads soft where they fall
side by side in sundown
opposing lanes, we run to the moon
limbs and thoughts a pile-up
while dogs and deer play our tune
show me, show me, show me
a tongue filed away with kitchen knives
and shove Escher staircase wit
out darkly smirking double barrels
lined with fresh cherry chapstick
I know you fancy sailors
but will a pirate do?
spy thee, spyglass, ye
youthful prism of euphemism
and sweet love that comes and goes
as hatreds twinkle
and low aloft would-be
jealous stellar cartographers, we
whose eyes sail the night above
hoisting colored flags
'gainst sticky star-crossed love
spy, I'd trade my freedom
yea, I'd trade the sky and sea
for another endless glimpse
of that way you burned in me

-Luke Rounda

~ for M.S. ~