Poetry

You wanted to possess me
and I sought to
drink the stars.

An optics? Tears and
blood. Lynching. I
ask the moon, have
you ever been kissed?

You hold my hands
and laugh, heartily,
throwing back your thick, black
interlaced braid.

The radical, retrograde…
white space in between, I
watch the falling snow, covering
my thoughts with silverberries.

This was the unspoken,
untying love between a mortal
and a celestial being!