Friday Love
No one shouts for Venus anymore
At the peak of their wave covered in froth
That seafoam of her birth
We buy her roses to sign exes and
Ohhs reaching under the cupid’s bow of red mouths
Even when we're so much better at war
Married to our Tuesday routines
When was the last time you gathered ripe apples
Heard the song of desire on your seashell ear
Swan-dove into salty blue tears
Floating under heaven
Wet with a sweet pleasure for all that shines
Supple life strikes my heart
I only wish to swell
Rise to a crest if I may break upon your shore
If I may swim to your island
Dance over your thorns and kiss the blooming buds
My love my love my love