of stars

i think i’ll dream of stars tonight
the ones that set the world alight
and shine upon my window
with a somehow pensive glare

and in that dream, a star will fall,
a blue-green falling star,
a celebration from afar, 

and I will wish upon it,
every ember of it
not just a firework,
but milky way of spilt love in your hands,

and i was not yours
but still your hands polished away the cold

for we were young,
and we were bold,
and dreamt of stars that night.

carnation

suppose we hit a golden spiral
taking us back to 33a.d.
then, the bud of us was no more than a swelling tear
cascading down a woman’s cheek,
metamorphosing red
upon converging with the blistering sand
somewhere north of mount zion
 
dare i purport that was the birth of us?
before the saviour even breathed his last
and saved us all. or so they say.
the fortunate. believers.
 
and i’d like to believe in something.
anything at all.
 
still, mind not that mary wept for us, in our creation,
just keep your wandering eyes on that carnation,
scarlet turning to hot pink in the lewd glare of the sun 

under your hands, the buttons of my shirt fumble undone.

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Christians believe that the first carnation bloomed on earth when Mary wept for Jesus as he carried his cross.