i have spent these small infinities

calculating whether or not

God is made of paper

*

i omit breath with an ocean in my veins

drowning beneath the plunge

of your golden resurrection

*

there are swans

monitoring the swamp of moss bourbon

silent as they awaken a warning

complimented by sky birds

we must abandon these bodies at dawn

*

on the carpet of no one’s grass

my body is folded

as i drink the colour

of his moon fingers

i am reminded that

if we become inaudible

soft trees will break the fall

*

if this is all that is left

of our apocalypse then

why am i still here?

*

that fragile cathedral

you lay your bones inside at night

bathes her floor

with the salt of bleach

*

patience removes the rings

from my boned fingers

as i prepare to throw my body

beneath the tears of waves

*

carrying nightfall in my palms

i begin to remind myself

of your skull’s absence

i look on as a lighthouse

begins to burn