Stargazer

Down the hallway I fly with Cupid one nickel-and-dime Monday at school,
Slamming lockers, morning gawkers, swinging doors,
Who will not be caught unaware of the stubborn edge on a table leg?
My stubbed toe and all that, the aftermath a mosquito bite, so sudden as you.

I step closer, each tread from shy heartbeat to oblivious, wild, and free, 
Your face a thousand Polaroids of hands clasped together, like silver chains around someone’s neck in the moonlight, of lips pressing on another, of a touch so brief it crawls under your skin, a spider circling your thighs, weaving webs larger and purer than your heart, meeting someone’s gaze is the absence of hyphens: rainbow, dragonfly, sunflower—two words that when combined make a whole new beautiful meaning.

Come here so I can see you, count the number of hues in your irises, brush my thumbs on your eyelashes, branding them with my fingerprints, and draw a straight line from your jaw to your soft cheeks, all wrinkles and dots on the surface of the moon,
I’m your stargazer, plucking constellations in the sky, glowing just the way you are.