as things like wild moths

write right alright
a fish in sea of
feeling waiting weighting
you u you u you u
possessor of
professor of
unfelt i
can feel hard-ly the unfelt like
like's bridges to where love
has bursting buds like
our hands holding or god
forbid one little kiss plus
that moment just after where
that freshborn we
must eye-lock a second
and probably smile
say something
et dream cetera god
forbid those lovethings giving
our dreams things like
fingertips or god
forbid winelips or caterpillar feet
the very closest thing
to a real cocoon we get
to really have is i bet
like night when our quilts
-our unsmelled quilts (which we
have no idea how lovely they smell)-
are wrapped tightly 'round our separate bodies
and as things like wild moths we
alight on each others dream-hands