The tea screams into the morning,
disrupting silence

After we sweat out dreams clear as ink
Drizzled on white lillys, wet

In the fog,
Of new sun

Anticipations of our youth ascend while
Clinched fists draw you closer to
The throbbing violence
In an orchestra of muscle

Setting teams of horses, thundering
And their leather crackling tight,
With a bit that won’t snap beneath
The weight of your teeth

You are towering on me like a park angel in the fall when the leaves
Are blowing cool
And the eyes roll one thousand times
Across pillows and smooth linen
Before they capture the
Upside down image of what heat in the night of a December feels like

Tethers of distance never disclosed or defined but pulled apart like horses through a field
When sweat sways and
The wind distinguishes what is direction and

Movement beneath wet legs of beds and sheets,
Encouraging the mouth to breathe

The winter approaching. For the two of us,
The time when we live in each other
And survive the death of solitary.