Our sun-blessed hour follows
me into the night, inverse shadow
a cape of light that holds its warmth.
tender and unfolding
with all the shyness of a new-fledged
butterfly that landed on my shoulder.
I wanted to turn my head
delight in the artistry of your wings,
but I was scared
to crumple the velveteen folios
So I closed my eyes and sensed
the tremulous wing-beat
and was glad wanderlust
long enough for you
to mistake my skin for an erythrismal blossom.
Words strung carefully, gently
with almost-selfless intention
and sorrowful inflection
they are ill-fitted to this time.
Confessionals hung on
my tongue but I bit down
because God forbid the sound
rattle your veins and urge you away.
Hope bloomed in
my throat but I swallowed hard
because for all the reason
we have to sing, those petal-faced glories
are out of season.
There is a time for shared silence
a time for abundant thoughts aloud
a time for sun-blessed hours
to hold both in the golden stretch.