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Writing
Nov 09, 2017, 06:59AM

I Will Make a Ferris Wheel of Thee

Love is a verb.

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you spoke of the velvety sky
(I rest my face between the
velvet of your sighs) you
there, me yes! caught
by the throat and so
many spokes and so
the wheel burns
a bright and tidy
note (blue neon
throbs like the heart
of a humming bird)
she flaps her wings
one thousand flaps
per second IMPOSSIBLE
(he says) as the wheel
churns and burns
never having slowed
down to observe that
happy second, you,
LOVE IS A VERB, me,
LOVE IS ABSURD but 
we still follow that gaze,
eyes like tiny beads
and why are you so
afraid (not me, no
never) not you, my
mister clever... it's
only a matter of
threading that needle
eyes on the prize, a
scarab a beetle
(g'night darling) 
and we leave ourselves
and our footprints behind
in wax, our seal, our deal
you me and this quiet
endeavor
(you are mine and I am
yours, forever in that plush
velvet night, eyes like stars
like scars, yes, even more
than forever).

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