to me
Love used to be a word that was stretched out among the garlands,
languid in newly sexual, child summers,
as strong as dance --
a word that tapered towards a dark sky
and came out on the other side bright purple,
with a mouth filled with candles.
Now, She is blue water.
Now, She is
temperatured,
and quiet like sickness.
She is still outstretched,
but I am guarded,
though I bring Her on,
trying on freedom
and perfume.