Her name felt save in his mouth

Her name felt save in his mouth

Sliding down that mossy sink of darkness;
Where the moonmilk seeps above his head
And drops like sugary moonbeams down
His Irish skin

No mirrors, to reflect his cocooned crystals
Only pitch black shape-shifters,
In the misty middle rock

As a memory of indigo burnings surfaces,
And his exuberance is unleashed
He swims over luminescent calcite flowers,
And splashs in the pale, pearly thoughts,
Of how the way she’ll let him in

By a passage of mystical beauty,
Growing from tension, compression, and bubbles that crowds…
Until…
Yielding softly overhead,
To his language of love
And burrowing down into that wide mouth
Of security and curiosity

     Photograph: Ryan McGinley