Timber

The dolphin, unhinged by the surf, dove
Headlong
Into the wreckage.

I'm talking myself out of it,
Sinking into moss and mica.
Like the Queen, I'm going mad-
I make the same mistakes,
I'm nothing new.

This, my cocoon, is but a
Carnal shadow of tepid, sleeping you.
We chant with each luscious bloom
Birthed on the breeze like a spore.
A coincidence.

Be the corona of my sun,
Ignorant of meters and minutes
Our glare will live in the fireflies-
Inking over my eyes, dripping down
Swollen cheeks, chattering chin.
Disorderly, delicious.

I am shaking, an unswaddled child, and
It feels a bit like free-fall.