- after jaiden thompson

i meet you again at a garden party, hair kissed by wind, intestines tangled
from a waltz with alcohol + a tango with your eyes, + i finally speak with
you + you say you are a fish, not like a star-strewn pisces,
but a siren. you tell me you smash sailors' skulls.
i can't tell if you are joking, + smile + smile + laugh like
a television searching for a signal, brain fizzing in champagne, like static.
i look at your lips. i think, if i flung a tv set into the ocean, we could electrocute the gods.
i displace oil; i think that makes me alive. do you splash water like archimedes's crown? do you
transpose more sonatas than gold? do you remember my name? do you rust when you bathe?
i realize, starkly, that i'm staring. falling in love too quickly, diluted in
the reflection of your body as you swaps skin for scales, leaving me primal + bloody,
raw as i burn endlessly like greek fire, boiling as you take my hand. marrow
seizes, + i reassure my chest that this rendezvous is not a pathogen, +
your gills breathe against my hip, welding to the bone.
it is quiet here; it is my sixteenth november. our whispered words are the only witness upon
the terrace. our breath makes fog, + we cloud gaze. you summit my mouth + i submit to your bone
+ poseidon feels the shock of the increase in voltage, flat screen upon
sea floor, home in your sun-spots, home in your curves. may i write you a love song from bone?