Lost & Found – Poem

I want to cover you in neon stickers

and tell no one. I want to lay

naked in your arms, and take

a no-flash photograph of us

in pitch black. In recent trends

the spectral has swollen out

to overtake the spectacle

and I want to go out of style

with you. I want to write a cento

with you, and light it on fire with sparklers

on the fifth of July.

You listen like a sphere of

silver cone light shades –

rapt synesthesia in jazz beats.

Kiss me like revival,

like thermostat adjusted.

Live is one vowel shy of love.

I opt out of the limitless cold sky.

How long have you signaled

your semaphore to get me

to land?


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