Palms of Red

Hold my palm

and prick three veins

to let my blood ford the future

in streams thick with laughter

Now set the sun

soak my eyes in orange loneliness

no, please-

I promise I won’t blink

if you lift just a little higher

I told a joke once

that I didn’t understand:

wherever you go there’s a hole

but nobody laughed

so I didn’t ask

if I left one behind

or marched our silence down inside

But it’s dark as dead ink

and your eyes are the lighthouse

behind blinding black moons

blotting bleeding coastlines jeweled

with red shipwrecked salvation