Time is viscid, rushing by my eyes’ light
My breath awfully still, a blank slate in
Which I rewrite what is to be. Within
Circles knew not I of this kiss, my sight
Alight with the stroke of a fiery might,
Of the angel that first kissed me, for in
An instant, I feel a spark, true yet thin.
It grows, thickens, clearer than water white,
As bright and coy as a searing jewel.
There are sounds of glee—laughter—suns rising
In your irides. This starting mirth is fuel
For our second kiss, blessings reviving
That same contentedness in a whirlpool
Between us; our love is unsurprising.