night and foam

your feet dragging
the flow into the house

the river

across the stairs where
in tiny cracks
the sun's still nesting

bathrobe pockets
full of carps and moonshine
you sneak through rooms and years

ahead of time
by a wingbeat of light
ahead of your life
by a breath

feet covered in ancient silk you
smell of hay and cream and nightly
drunk gold

the long evenings instruct you
in the use of light
and your eyes invent the daymoon
made of down and honey

maybe your name is
not only made up of
syllables and letters

but of rain and melons
of night and foam

of drumbeats

sediments of love