lighthouse boy dances in green boxers – backyard suddenly a sea where he shines saccharine wet – (the sky is crying too) – we are 18 and my hands are still warm from the soufflés at our rendezvous – still thinking –  romance is tricky and soft sweet – like cream on his upper lip, four hours ago – and now, the curve of his eyes – gentle hollows of a man, waiting, dangerous,  alive –  skinny dipping is smart until my playlist hits the ground with his shirt – lorde plays boom boom boom boom with my teeth – heart hammering to the time of his laughter – (if the sky was falling, it would look to you) – temptation is an open gate, is the path of water – trees bend and shake – thunder cracks but you stay  – in less clothing and lesser light – in the tide flooding ribcage – there you are – lighthouse boy! – with a striped grin – singing along to words which mean surrender in his language – come home in mine – it’s good – it’s sacred – it’s summer.
- IT’S RAINING WHEN HE RUNS OUTSIDE - by x.v, published in The Murmur House