Poem: Loved

Someone else's immunity
and animal ravages
after the spittle settles

And for pragmatism
I hope the blood scent
tickle remains

for the drunk pack
euphoric with lips
to crisp line glass

pursed to wine
the detail of label
class and phylum.

The piping played
from rifts where
elseplaced ideal

is declared
apart from
chemical swell

so that songs
of high-breath
mortality

sweetened by
drained colour
and endocrine

can wander
in bodies
between

what the blinkered
call function and the divine,
the naked call

individuation and
sexuation, the stress
of all stretches.

All words foreign
make saline
our squares

so that colours
appear different
viewed out of

the customs of
phrases
passwords and looks

and what elegance
of physique
and graph

poise and politics -
tracking by observing
either sigh or indices

Love is stuck.
We make it that way.
So by pose

we can go: hey let's go
together. One of us comes
with two, the other, one.

We bare missives.
Apparition, wanted symmetry
and thread for foist.

Someone unapproachable
will love me because
of Shakespeare's astrolabe

I will take a whiff of the earth
for the history of streets
caught by the authorities.

Eyes unseen
but sensed
look straight at mine.