Amante XIV

Upstairs by the curve of lamp, Amante
on the bed, by the two satin pillows
and the pale golden head of moon, don't say
mi triste, no lo siento, these woes
that blued the sky past twilight reap the dawn.
Querido we go on, a miracle
caught in your hands, and I am never gone.
Nunca! For I have fallen to your will
and mouth, wingspread and worn upon your skin,
dark beating on your tongue where I am whole.
I know your muted whispers from within
night sung al cielo. Here is my soul
lain on your life, caught in the teeth of sighs.
Muted. Our breath. Silence and star-crossed cries.