Kolasch.com

At night, she visits, the dark outline
of a lover sneaking through the window.
A star being pulled by the persistent
tug of a hole in the night.
Or like the dark face of the moon
wishing it could turn
and see the sun.

She is a sunflower
opening up to the sun with a soft O.
Lays in the grass where baby
spiders practice catching flies.
Quiet buzzing strings raise
goose bumps in her skin.
Rain pricks against the flat blade
of her tongue and touches her eyelids,
inquiring fingers: Can I come in?

At dawn, she departs—
smell of sunflowers,
gentle almost kiss of petals
on the tip of my nose. I miss her
weight of nakedness next to mine.
She leaves a shallow
crater in the sheets like the moon
pelted by tiny seeds.
In front of dirty glass, she opens
her arms to welcome the sun.

I wish I could be the light side of the moon
and turn around and welcome
her into me.

JKolasch