one day in a blue bedroom
blue flares of bursting light
appeared behind her eyes -
she'd never had it so good

sitting on top of him, crying
wanting to be kissed everywhere
so bad, heartache and skin-hunger
then the novas in her sight, and she was flying

and so was he, voids in his mind
full of baroque music, geometric forms -
outside the bedroom it was a rainstorm
hammering on the window behind

her head, eyes turned up, looking within,
mouth open, "Oh Lord, oh God,"
as her insides poured out
through the pores of her skin

the great symphony, the greatest joke
he laughed aloud at the ridiculous joy,
remembering history classes as a little boy -
Da Vinci’s drawings, the hundred birds that broke

before Bernoulli's aerodynamic science -
before they landed on the moon -
playing golf in the white, dusty lagoons,
waving hello in a frozen silence

that sang louder than hammered bells -
unfathomable, a tiny astronaut
suspended like a Christmas ornament
in a lightless space - and then he fell

into the darkness behind his own eyes,
all of his skin on fire with her
breathless, raging to absorb her,
to inhale her - eyes closed, she flies –

bearing the weight of the moon, and him
over the Earth’s surface. The clouds shimmer,
and she hopes to God that they’ll land together,
his darkness a home for the death-light within her.