your aperture narrows as f /our voices deepen sunlight burns through exposed cloth shutters

we made you to protect an us we never realized would be safe as she is it’s no decorative pansy

darkrooms reveal stains & splatters under safety lightbulb, glowing ruby our eyes don’t adjust yet

we have twins, don’t we? is it sisters, not twins? god, no that’s a different flower entirely — rosemary

you outfit us in leather armor tie boots tight as heartstrings we dance and breathe as one enter prisms — offset blinking

underground, understand a halo grip my thighs below your wings breathe — you ask “you ready?” to leave, to ride, to fly. of course.

don’t look down & don’t let go become part of a red machine: a bell, a backpack, a balance gripping tightly, holding loosely

i am not afraid to ride with you to glide across rock and sound my pilot is divine, invincible even molded contours promise safety

as we swerve, we synchronize we’re on an island, smiling wide small compared to a lighthouse even smaller against your frame

my sister thought she could fall along the same route we travel but i know i fell for you already ache is just what flight feels like

door opens— am i the fool? gloves snap, now i’m playing my role unstained steel tray cradles your tools you wash me clean, i cede control

you sketch small leaves in purple ink i play with you, this is our game when it’s all done, what will they think? art, artist, work— all share a name

calmly you ask “ready for stabs?” there’s not a way for me to know is this your temple or your lab? we share one breath, it’s time to go

your sword and your eyes penetrate music and pain blanket my brain sometimes we should disregulate questions pour out, blood from a vein

hours pass as you make passes pricks turn into private pleasure when we are through, our flesh collapses every mark is made forever

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