LOVE POEM TO THE LIGHT BEFORE SLEEP

by Brandi George

 

 

These, my lips, parted
with an oh-jeez-oh-man. Pale
angel’s bag of suns,
my heart counts new mornings
by a face held to my belly.  A great orb

            silvers over the spoiled wheat
of my sex tapes—oh, various enlightenments
swell and crush, but
you are atomic, killer, my darling

                 dear of the capsized raiment—
there are seven deadly sins I’d sickle
onto my soul for one brush of your stubbly
chin against my cheek

because this, my voice,
sounds as sand in the night’s
eyeball, where I wrap my legs like a vine
while the hereafter sends itself flowers

            and I cry:  I have known
the heart of the earth!  Never sun
because fire gets pissed into nebulas—
but never you, great shade atrium, great Picasso

     eye— you are the purple ball of my dreams,
the star-field I duck through
while wooing this, my air, my open
birdcage of breath.

 

 

Return to table of contents.