The summer is full in the way that dandelions are full of wishes
in June I wished for your smile and you wished for my love.
Above my sternum is a road marked Clavicle.
it has no tunnels to make wishes in
but it runs next to the railroad tracks of my ribcage
which carries my whistling heart
to the wideopen arms of your smile.
This is my stop.
I will alight on your limbs.
I will sing in the rusty key of honesty
there are no bars on the streetcorners of your ears.
Listen to my visions.
They are the closest I come to religious.
You know, poetry is my prayer book
I don't need any other god than your tongue.
You write enlightenment on my pages
I am offering you the lines scrawled on my palms
read them with your fingers
girl you are your own miracle.
I am still not convinced there is a difference
between prayers and wishes.
You know how I know love is concave?
I told you to bring me the Grand Canyon,
which is an absence more than an object,
and you brought me its edge,
so that I would know that it is defined by what holds it.
I know how to make wishes on your skin.
Your body is full of tunnels
there are four parallel lines of eyelashes
locked like clock numbers to your eyes
there are two falling stars at the ends of your arms
five-pointed like honeycomb
I will catch them in mine,
hold my breath and close my eyes
to make sure that no matter our seasons
we keep coming true.
A/N: For Mel.