I want to lift you from a star:
prise you off its surface,
and capture my own tiny cosmos.
I want you to watch me with awe:
like Frieda and the Moon,
and praise what we’ve created.
It’s always a brief moment
recollection, my collection,
a network of new beginnings –
but it always comes back to you,
bruised with sheepish glances:
smiling like little corners.
To feel your weight above:
observant and special,
returning each breath in my lungs,
and give in to dark.
Grasp that quiet, and let things unravel
in silent spirals, echoing,
threading the light, a needle
enjoining us and enjoying us,
practising our craft.
Looking up, see petals fall
and cascade in freckles,
laced across my face.