Like water down 
the well of your
back, I trace my
touch over the slope
of your ribs, feel
your ujjayi dove
reverberate into
my anahata and
all is a soft static
I hear the echo
of mercury waves
rock steady under
the pink moon
and reclaim fever
found not in
your head, but
in the crown
tied around
your temple
and your hair
flows like an
ultraviolet curtain
I want to tuck in
to let the beams
of light sing,
to feel your song
and let your hum
soothe my cells,
to feel as gilded
as the tidepools
you let my body
rest in, so I can
glitter, too
so I may be
strong enough
one day to let
you soak in mine,
and I will.