Phytoplankton (alternate)

All evening I ache

for you to take

the plunge.

You sit by the shore,

and you drink wine

as you wait for the moon

to settle. When you enter,

I cling desperately

to your hair and mask;

I search your ears

and writhe between

your legs, knowing

what you see.

My back glows

brighter than foxfire.

In this vacuum I am

your missing link. You

understand I connect

the swelling heavens

to the cavity of sea.

My phosphorescence looms

grand in this space,

and soon you’ll forget

his tightening grip

and how he

pulled you to me

through a void

black enough

to drink us up.

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pupils=universe

Some mornings you will find me turned toward you–my nose barely touching yours, my chin tilted upward–enjoying your sleep. You curl fetal, a small animal (chipmunk or flying squirrel) as it clings to its mother (pseudo-goosedown pillow with blue piping). I trace your temple; you whimper. First melon-tinged light sneaks past the blind slats as you squint one reluctant eye open–a gold-flecked iris in bloom. Pupils unfurl like clenched buds bringing my day break. I breakfast beneath your vast lashes. And, when dawn’s light is just so, I understand the big bang theory, your pupils–my universe perpetually expanding.