After Stephen King's, It

     

     “Your hair is winter fire,
        January embers.
       My heart burns there, too.” 

 

 

​

​the naked nocturnes of due north

 

my heart is an enigma

a demigod of lies i’ve told

a bushel of market sweets

and youthful dreams

lost to all

the women i’ve loved

the one’s who’ve laid with me

 

your fingernails

paint a landscape, poured

down across the green

my love, this side

our bodies worn

from loving

and loving 

 

loving ‘till our fire ashes

burns pure to light up morning

when you make a man from me