Super Massive

poetry

stretch across the floor

easy as laughter, faster,

brash alabaster cast out

after having been lashed

too long at the main mast,

wrists blue, kernel askew,

what shall i do with you?

insisting on star travel,

locks unraveling for hours

ever lost in the sour patch

flowers, sweet the petals

fall into my heart, plated

& fileted with fork and knife

for art! Don’t, don’t, don’t

let’s start if it denotes an

end; set sights higher than

cruisin' altitude, ruder than

an awakening unpursued

with peppered lips, deep

smiles when sheets slip up

and sink ships, acquiring

a taste for irons, it’s sending

me ‘til delivery from depths

lurking someplace beneath

the hull of his spirit above,

him holding my pulse light

as a dove, drowning softly

under waves from a wight

black as the starless night.