is a blue sky to your throat
as you sup all I have left.

I watch your soil darken
as if a cloud moves through it.

Watch that bitten bottom lip
sob of yours take the easy route

as if it is an anvil
of cumulonimbus and spits
at the earth a flatiron spray
of steam to remove my creases.

Your waters curl through ground
that needs more surge to move it.

A pearl of sweat suspends the eye as it wavers on one of your risen follicles.

Your river dammed by my mouth.

Only the troposphere
can hear your heart.