Yesterday my heart was an onion.

Your love swerving east like an ax

chopped it in half

and sucked tears from the breasts

of a pregnant summer sky.

This morning my heart became a candied yam.

All mixed up with a thousand secret spices

I had no taste for praising or condemning.

I steamed, smoldered, and burned

with every kiss that glistened inside your eyes.

Tomorrow,

or three seconds from now,

I shall become something else,

such as that silent white glow
in the air between your lips
when your soul breaks open like a fresh galaxy

and releases the buried typhoon of your fears;

or a leaf that flashes jade

for a season

then folds back into the topaz mysteries

gathered inside autumn’s tattered pocket.

Before this song comes to an end

my heart shall beat and surface

through many images:

a groom, a bride, the ring on each of their fingers.

The vows that make their tongues sweet.

One infinite flux of beauty––

like that one just now––

and my heart becomes your ears

lovingly swallowing these words,

buzzing like a star gone wild.

Getting hot. Now hotter. Like raw honey catching fire.