apologetic lights soft
, moth wings
laced, bridgeless, over the teeth of the skyline
hands swollen from salt
(and thinking of boys)
hold the peeling-paint rail to steady the eyes.
as they watch, dark eyes, drink up reflections
of dusty halos
of street lamps
off black water
your name passes soundless by my lips
the word is the same shape as your kiss
are too long for a boy.
they brushed my cheek when you blinked
your hair would sell for a good price
it is as heavy as gold
still, I am at the river
the wind that hints of sea water
hang on the Brooklyn Bridge
glowing like my thighs’ treasure
naming the shape of the invisible bride
words fail between us.
so many are known,
that no two words,
not love, not lust,
can name the same dream.