When the volcano turns shale and basalt
liquid, when the coast melts and heat and steam
rise up in the air, when lava and salt
water mix, then nature loves blaspheme.
These earth tremors and quakes, these little deaths,
the whole world shifting on its foundations.
I have heard in each of your sleeping breaths
how the oceans will pause, how the millions
of small sea moans will hush, how this lipless
world knows we’ll go explore this ravaged shore
of a kiss. If the sea loves our crudeness,
if this is our blaspheme, I want more.
I want your flow and tides, steam and beaches,
lava and sea salt, your cum and kisses.
memories of my ghost sista 