Luceros

Our clothes slid from our skinAs did sun’s shoulders into the sea.Wading naked,Waist-deep and wrappedBy warmth of stars—Floating through our tentacled fingers,Between our collective thighs

As fireflies carousing night’s muggy breath—I dipped my hand gentlyAs to not startle the droplets sucklingMy skin cracks into its calm,

And took your womb like a water jug—Bone lined with mudSoft as silt,Kilned by the afterday.

The black veil above usObscured the liquid sloshingIn and out of your clay.I took a deep swig of it—

Thick, pungent clumps, briny in taste—And continued to drinkUntil the blood surrounding us,Blotting from within you,Had been consumed.

Swaying its contours again through water,It glowed as fire,Thirsty for star-nectarThat scuttled away in swarms.

The more light I captured with your lightness,The darker the darknessSurrounding my pupils.When I placed the wombBack in your body,

It turned night into day,The water into milk,And the stars into long ribbonsOf wild mountain honey,Brown, bitter as it was golden, sweet.

You combed its glimmering as you unspooledA golden thread from your navel—Blonder than the blondest strand of your hair—And crocheted a new soul with it,

One that would be his:A new flame lit by a litanySung in Magyar and Nahuatl—Sister tongues braided, burning as one.

Your solar plexus grew brighter and brighter—As a red giant from a nebula—Beneath your full moon breastsCratered thick of translucent milk veins

To nourish his defenselessnessInto luminescence:Light from light,True life from true life.

Nothing could’ve sparked his brillianceAs did the constellationsSwimming in our bloods—Only light can make light—

Nothing would be able to extinguish itAs the stars in the skyWhich were no longer there—But were black and white picturesTaken millions of lifetimes before

When they lived and loved—Young, beautiful, celestial—Standing before each otherAs they never would again,Their echoes left behind like gossipIn the vast nothingness.