The Game He Called “Glide Against the Sky”
Lust at the edge of nothing. Steps along
the parapet: no future tense, stillness
oceanic. Gravity in black fields
of granite spheres and starry core itself
sucked upward at your skull, your singing
blood, your own core, your fear. Renegade
between your knees to whom you’d whispered,
Esa, I will learn discomfort for you,
borrow from your restless dream, alongside,
guiding, pleased. You found your nature gone
to sea, convalescing memories toys
dropped from dirty fingers. You’d never had
a moment’s faith. No matter. Look up, he said.
Scan the universe for simple signs. There is nothing
to believe, but flowers in their need trust sky.