Is it a blush

That reddens your soft white cheeks?

Did he wake you up past     midnight

With a soft   searing   kiss?

Are you  naked in satin skin     unwaxing

With   yellow crayon-fingers   swimming circles

Over your bare back in a rhythm of    blue?

So you trace tresses     his hibiscus scent in        snores

        Of aftermoon naps,

Did he  garland in you

            an origami knife

that unfolds a      paper-blood heart?

    Won't you Icarus         a December rain

Sea the sky     back and wilt fire     his

in the     inside of your cheek?

18/12/20