# #sun 5 poems ## [wrist](https://chromato.graphics/wrist) i clocked the watch once and wished its red hand swept across your face i knew i’d want the date i saw the toy’s hallmark that predates its maker cupid’s bow pointillism it looked best in color i slipped on a staircase tripped on slippery oak fell into a concrete pool cut and bruised joints you caught me there held me — rubbed salt into my fresh wounds to heal and to hurt me a thin black strap is all that holds back the sun when this camera falls it’ll leak light forever three solid bands form an unbroken bracelet brass never gleamed until becoming a label holding mine down against white silk, gray wool, graffiti it’s easy to go deep ## [mirror](https://chromato.graphics/mirror) i’m sorry i bumped into you. i thought you were a mirror. your clear surface showed what they saw of me then. parties are meant for diffusion, but we focused instead. twisting the lens to almost make out what was there. i’m sorry i couldn’t touch you. i thought you were a mirror. i feared leaving greasy prints for everyone to see. museums of mailboxes and phones reveal past and future connections. a present — behind smudged display glass. i’m sorry you didn’t see me waving at you in the city. i thought you were a mirror. you weren’t yet waving back. being gay is hard sometimes. hotel bathrooms get steamy, you can’t always get the right angle before the image blurs. i’m sorry we were interrupted. i thought you were a mirror. i never dreamed anyone would walk through it and shatter the glass. i need to move but i can’t sleep. some things aren’t done yet. i’m hiding from sunrise, from men, under blankets and cardboard towers. i’m sorry i looked so long. i knew you were a mirror, but i couldn’t spot the vanishing point. some reflections distort; yours perfects. ## [eigengrau](https://chromato.graphics/eigengrau) the only way to ignore the sunrise is to close our eyes at daybreak white light pours through delicate curtain lace— an unseen ocean roiling more to see and to say as blue waves beckon, calling toward tomorrow but no matter what we try, there’s no true darkness. light seeps in everywhere the shade we find there feels almost ultraviolet; we see it together, apart in separate beds, rooms on opposed coasts, we conjure the same cosmos this color could be our own. when other lovers see it too, do they know we bathe in it? ## [108ºC](https://chromato.graphics/108c) sunny side up eggs cook with sunshine denaturation begs, bonds across time waveformed Q train park date prospects PascalCase names everywhere object polycarbonate layers exposed gold livewire angel of gay prayers film stock, unexpired bumblebee chapstick seeing in rainbows jet turbine fuel drips one port won’t close ## [atlantic
  pacific](https://chromato.graphics/atlantic-pacific) i often wake three hours before your sunrise calls for a response logbook already soaked with ink we laugh, but even if we could, _why constrain our outporings?_ one winter day you ask for notes on undersea strings aware of both the timbre and tempo of these songs we start singing together i fall into an evening rhythm talking and yes moaning into the phonograph, my head then swallowed by the brassy cone our voices sound better inside when you open your ears again there’s so much weather to hear : wind and rain and quiet calm that lasts too long and means too much we keep sailing even without a map true, land divides us more than sea, but these two coasts call to us both maybe it’s the sirens or the sounds of wavecrash against the shore — the dangers of unfathomed depths