Converse

Facing we sat
Palm to shining palm
Eyes locked and lashes flared
Prints pressing tenderly
Knees nestling, twined and knocking

Sat facing our spines rigid
Tendons ripping, muscles rippling
Watching, waiting, our mouths gaping
Tears trickling softly past maps of scars
Yours of moons
Mine of stars
Silver to red by tear shaped shards

Tongues buried in the wells of the mouth
The grass flattened by our weight
They boiled in our bellies
Writhing in masses surging upwards
Letter after letter
Streams flew out
Almost meeting, curving around each other
Fleeing in linguistic frenzy to cultivated destinations
Flowering through our nostrils
Filtering behind our retinas

And facing, we sat
Talking of the day that had been
Under a sky dead and staring.