You peeled off the skin of the moon; now you have it powdered
peachy from the sun.
Teen sweat, like ginger tea.
Your stubble has grown,
A trace of charcoal spread on a sketch.

You loved
once with me,
for the first time, among soap bubbles.

*
We put the car to sleep in a field suffocated by marigolds.
I asked you what flower you’d want to be,
you said – that one.
Why? They're all the same.
Oh, but that’s not true,
some have lost their petals,
others die quicker after the rain,
some are opened like dozens of legs.

*
When you thought I was so alive
you offered me a planet inside a flower,
the stars lit campfires in your eyes and
I let it fall into the chasm.
Why? – it was for you
Oh, but nothing is for me,
Nor for you,
I will always know where it is and I won’t have to see
how it withers before me.

*
Sticky note: the second isn’t a parrot.
Love like a mute, Emmanuel
without pressure without photographs
like a deaf like a blind with severd hands
like a decayed bridge
make people fall into the water
with submission when you cry from the beauty of the sun with teeth in the snow.

Love, Emmanuel
all summer long.
The bees will build honeycombs in your chest