Luminous

I will write on the face of the moon and send
you luminous etchings of this silent city quieted
in pale and stinging snowfall; rounded moss-
velvet cheek of child, rosy and rolled in sleep
and dreams and blankets, my own face
learning the contours of hope.

I will find the words to write to you in petal-flurries
of the wings of birds that rise from my belly and
my blood, birthing stars from my throat. As the fingers
of your voice draw me into you, I will feed on your
laughter, fall into your silences, and harbour
you in luminosity. Until you speak again,
I will catch you vibrant and dancing in the shimmering
purple-green of northern lights, my waiting arms
encircling you as horizon makes covenant with sky.

--Chandra Mayor