For KVL

Delicacy is measure. A butterfly’s foot

would crush an ant. And so,

luminous wings which dazzle

human eyes warn

the frail. Irridescence of the dead

is beauty in the Raven’s eye,

silvery marriage of fur

fluid, and thirsty earth.

All things honor this bed:

Outline of mountain, inline of sky.

Each thing perfect until we compare

I know, but I am flawed

and forced to choose. Gold

measured by weight, value

by scarcity. A man could be crushed

by what he treasures.

The kisses, the offered throat

pleasured gasps spent

like small change because you “hate

to sleep alone- full stop”

---measured from another side

I hold uncommonly dear.

Partners cannot, lovers will not

dictate terms. One may buy

and one may spend. It is I

who mention cost

because my treasure

is light as a butterfly

on your scale. My breath

falling and rising, spurning the invitation

in my sallow telephone.

I cannot eat with you

damp from the arms of another man

Your argument is weightless as a closed fist

In a dream. The more you slight

his worth the more disdain

my prize. Not to say you

are not yours to spend

only note that earth

and sky are fused. Dig a hole

the sky falls, raise a pile

you lever heaven. Such reciprocity is delicacy.

You are a shimmer of wings.

Even a dog knows when to look away

when it is safe to return.