Cosmology

And with a spangled brush full of stars

the night sweeps away the debris of the day

our pretences

our lies

made pale in moonlight

casting sails across the sheets

wrapping you in the hammock of midnight

a spell

woven into your night-dark hair

flax on the pillow

eyelashes of silver cobwebs

skin of egg-white mystery

like the moon

you are my centre of gravity

you pull

and tug

all of the secret tides in my body

but

this bed is far too large

trembling secrets

safe in the calm bay of night

trivialities only for the hot shock of daylight

whispers, shared like shooting stars

and all that I am is aching

to close the light-years between us

to touch the tips of your fingers

against mine

the rotation in the heavens

even gravity

nothing

compared to your hand, closing

the sweetest oyster, over mine

the ebb and flow of galaxies

in our entwined fingers

even though

when the cold grey dawn

rises, pressing like mist against the window

you'll let go

I'll remember it still

even when all else is erased

by the scorching baptism of sunrise.