Sorrowed

Lark me from this weathering
Into the petrichor after a hailstorm.

There is symmetry in the water
Like I have never seen, peel of

Hydrangea like I have never felt,
Haloes sharpened from the taste

Of hexagons. Next to your eyes
In the marrow of this fog into each

Particle of our outcome, I grieve
For the countries flaming in our

Lungs after decades of air forsaken.
I don’t want to leave these

Compilations of night, onesome
Even with you as of rain fitted for

Lips undulating toward a smile.
Now this time it loved back, a fruited

Transmuting of my courage into
Smoke and then I heard it to be you:

The sun-swallowed howl of your
Cobra’s heart owning its kingdom.