Airplane

Deep crimson from the setting sea
precipitates like misted milk
as if the whole world swills to she, to
slake its lust against her hue and
sink away into the silk.

A woman and infant rest in me,
amid the shearing sky;
we are alike, us three, you see,
we live inside her silent dream
and give her all our life.

Their eyes are slugging up her gleam
and glazing in a slimy dew, a gift,
imparted by her gleam, that
shimmers as a gift wrapped light;
that eyelids can’t renew.

My body traces dips and ridges that
carve through bleeding flesh, while
I cry her name in breathy kisses,
streaming gobs of smokey kisses,
in hope she’ll stain them red.