Your eyes crinkle and your straight teeth peek out
like rocks in the ebb of the ocean,
I no longer feel sick, more so shoved into an oblivion
that my thoughts scream for so often.
But then they are quiet at your gaze. I am numb
as you pacify me with the soft curls of your hair,
the peculiar angle of your nose and the strong set of your jaw.
I am happy to die this way, I think-
rolling around with you in the grass, pearly petals
of lilies caught in your hair,
mouth deep, wet, tasting of a river.
Fill me with your saint’s grace and the rasp
of rough fingers, oh, we are grass-stained and
panting among the watercress. If this is Hell, let it rock me
to a gentle sleep in the afternoon sun of your radiant heat.