Early Riser
The moon was thick and full of thickets
behind lashes, when my irises
slivered them open he was gone,
along with the restless night, we were
Thrust into day, forced open to bud the next,
my back forced its way into the foreground,
with silent, sulking threats
of an impending crick
Ignored as a twitch, a quick fling
between muscle and joint that couldn’t decide
which way the dance
was supposed to go
The clock hands on the wall were droopy liars
my body didn’t move in earth time,
pinked shoulders sprouted freckles
that called out high noon
White corn was ready for picking, stalked by
the tomatoes that were kissing
the dirt’s smile again, in
little bug piles
Racing to get to their insides before I could,
burrowing deeper in while I only
dreamt of shiny silver pots rimmed in thyme,
splashed with marinara
Not need, but greedy substances from red gods
of the garden, fruitful in the way
that the moon took down notes
on each ripe scent
His tides call me ever closer, my ache
gives in, headache evaporates to a coolness
only felt when a sticky breeze dries over
a bed of bitter, mixed-up greens
Dipped in balsamic, I convalesce to needs
of his forever crescent, bend his beams
to soften golden-eared shadows, quivering
silks that tuck me back in
