As you offer anxious smiles
for the blessing of a father,
two fathers,
I watch those ruffled copper brows
reflect the gleam in your eyes.
That sun kissed your lips
before they ever touched mine, and
I long to leave your skin
equally dappled with breath,
to be the pocket on your shirt, moved only
by the rhythm in your chest.
Like a lion dancing with a butterfly,
you laugh with sharp undulation.
Once the color red, you’re more like
that profound and understated blue:
a base of fire glinting across virgin snow,
a glacier set ablaze in daylight.
I envy the sun.
