98% full waxing gibbous
flanked by you, even
though I suffocate some
I find that key-
hole of light and air rescue
me and you slide inside
it. And I am struck:
the wind is a buffet of
the Baltic, it is caught crystaled
with salt and wing
tips, it sticks to my cheek
where before you’ve laid
your mouth and there it stakes
its claim it penetrates,
a cave only you now
a moon could penetrate
first, a lone bird
then two. And OH
their plumage
lifted, see? Thrilling
their pale breast
their stroked reckless
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