how can we plot
the difference of love
and lust
when to begin
they graph so similar

our axes thrust up
the slow feeling of inherent
wound round inheritance
twining up into dusk and twilight
falling stars inversed

this is where we begin.

later, our hearts at midnight
resemble transformations
transfigurations and algebraic
branches of blood vessels
lung calculations and our mouths
become a drama of fresh
spun off-the-chart radioactive
light completely unlinear
challenging years to catch

us

at three we suffer and exalt
toss between our bought equations
of suspicion turned indecision
a tangible tap on our shoulders
like old friends we never missed
like lovers we didn't care to run into again
and we shame in secret at our undesire
and turn, bask
sun-made creatures in the near-worship
glow acquired from the constant
graphing gaze of one face
every small word and movement
a kind of raining grace

by four the first call of the world rolling
single peaked cry of approaching, of possible
impossible become probable
maybe
dare we give it a name
we insist on giving everything a name
tug yourself over go back to a sleep
that is not sleep that is sleep
do not dream of this dawn

the light at five is different
than dusk or evening or midnight
at least this I can classify as
flatter greyer unforgiving
giving our fingers slip and we tip,
coin with our skin the currency of down
toss words to delay it and deny
deny it and delay but

I left in the morning
and you were already gone.

how now will I calculate
measure and comprehend
your lovedust lustlight
cocktail of hours and maybe-futures
as sand over my shoulder

he does not believe in hourglasses
or sundials or clocks or stars
else change would force
upon construct

us

I am words lost to hours
there is no measure
I can not quantify
thereby justify
interpret
make my mouth move to the sound
of loss
or lust

or love