Pessuli, Ejus Pessuli

this is my call to arms: my bellyaching to the moon
to draw up her smokestack swords in the sunset
and hear the wind kiss her thigh. the skirt she bought
in Paris blended with the sky while the breeze

blew over the rooftops. we climbed onto the ledge
and i thought my head would become Newton's apple
on the steps below: my mind was spinning
as my finger pressed firmly against her skin

to silence any notions of her nonsense. the crickets gave
a song from their loins that our ears drank in
like the waining gibbous drank in its own moonlight.
i can smell the elements around me, aboard the construction equipment

readying to tear down unsightly trees. she asked
if i would read minds if i could but i only saw
four stars in the sky and thought how much
i would rather read those instead—their patterns

match those of the mist made by the lawn sprinklers
as it dances in the streetlights' glow. now is the inclination
of her hips' swagger, the oscillation of the concrete bench
where laughter keeps the urge to kiss at bay.

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