it would be strange if we switched limbs
–
on a night wolf-cry hot
the part where lipcracks
turn to mouthflesh
and forearms cool foreheads
~
while the sky lights
quiet-as-milk
Laced fingers and funny bones
behind ears
the tenderest of skin
–
lover
big moon
ghost in my garden
friend of mine
–
it would be strange
if we switched limbs
Sionnachaí 