-1Hong Kong
A volley of neon sparks
plummet before awkward embraces;

a tongue knots itself against the
underside of a cheek,

and
of course there are verdant eclipses
hypnotizing the dreams (otherwise
unspoken) of hands fussed, and reaching
forward through the rain.

I like to
watch
your
fingers
tap against
the glass;

you like to watch me shake when
I'm away from you,

although we glide across the frozen
green linoleum, nowhere near
close enough; gravity slants the
air all around us, but we remain
unmoving.

I find myself looking for an otherwise
fading grey; something otherwise
unbeknownst to me; something
freckling my lips

something for you to bestow on
me in the rain;

and it

f
a
l
l
s

against me, filling the carved dimples
otherwise meant for you.

Yet, you were there, pale
and diaphanous in the
neon, grappling un-scissored
notations, negating the words
(unspoken) before they sizzled
from my tongue

falling against your open
palms like the water coating your
lips with a sugary thickness

we stood together, as though
entranced by the rhythmic chime of
time - a forward motion otherwise
asleep on the docks, love-lorn in
the shadows, gabled, silvery along
rocky ridges of flesh,

two lovers
fade, like reason, from
the storm.