Do you think if we were on this ice plate,
wincing from bitter snow whisking us apart
if we still would have fallen so hard?

And then again
Waiting 8 months
To fall into your hair
Makes sense
To ride the syncopated sighs one more time
It is worth
Not knowing much

But the Breakfast to cook
Bed to make
Shower to run
And the home in those hands

Revealing thunderbolts between our two chests
Lit me inside
First sight
Was first concussion
Blaring beauty luminous sea light
In black water
I felt more time
In the endlessness of our limbs
Floating under the sun moon
In the sea that was our bath

On a Sunday I left you on land
And felt nerves twinge
Distance framed by time and water
Suckered by a samba
An impasse

An email
Resuscitated
The bahian dream

Rio baby
Splayed me on a corner
In a house with a shy roof
And perpetual water spilling through its three floors
On lime clothe our limbs met
Greeting each other like an axis to swing our souls from
You even hired a band
Succulently careening together
To samba
I fell upon you
Done
In the sand
And wilted by a hammock’s sincerity

We are fluid over space
And it is our nest in the wind
That is my home.