Once, she said this hot sun
hit her head so hard, fired up
all the molecules inside of her,
all it did was make her think love.
Once, she wrote a poem about
this folded neatly
in an envelope she sealed
with her saliva for him, all
the time wishing it was a kiss.
Once, there was a kiss,
but also there was nothing.
Once, before everything was,
the sun conversed with the still
black moon, wondering what lonely
means, if life could exist
under such a pitch black night.
The sun said, I will pour
everything into you, so when I leave
this place you will not forget what
light feels like, you will not forget
my hot lava love.
And so there was a marriage,
With candles everywhere, stars really,
no minister or witness to clap or to cry,
the sun’s bright arms stretching, wrapping
itself around the dark moon, and
only the Earth, watching, waiting
for a kiss between the two.
Once, not too long after,
the moon feel in love with
the pull of the ocean.
Once, he got an envelope, opened wet
edges, read words, ate them up
like expensive oranges.
Once, love grew forth from a mouth
like a tree with too many leaves,
covered all things like a warm mother’s hand.