IF THE SKY WERE A GIRL
If the sky were a girl she would be a striking one –
lips like miniature clouds, hands able to
shape hurricanes. Together you swim in neon pools,
the moon a lump of charcoal in comparison
to her mouth. You kiss her and your tongue suddenly lives
up to its title as the strongest muscle in the human body,
every tastebud salivating. She is a frequency
you can’t quite pick up – her name shaking like
radio static between your lips. When you touch her,
does it feel like redemption?
When you expressed penance for your sins,
did she offer you absolution?
After she’s ruined you, you cannot
bring yourself to regret her. Even when she’s only
a sharp flicker of a memory, you feel yourself
reaching for your wallet to look at her photograph,
face warped and melted from the rain.