The fallen are so beautiful on the flat-line roof.
Golden hues leave me wanting to make love
in the debris, risk moon folly’s be’st,
climb your ribs on wild fingertip and tongue.
Wind upturns hard veins, they spin to face
a glass reflection facing me; there’s more
to come than playing on the dead, I sing,
thinking of your eyes in mine right now.
forget me now 