Kristofer

Thank god
for all the double-tongued digits it took,
magically hocus-pocused,
to red carpet you into this world.
Not that you’d ever need soft ground
with all your cloud-like floating.
My magic-carpet Prince,
my whole nude world
—and yes, I mean nude.
You know naked better than
dandelion puffs in the wind.

My Love,
Pauper of Garments.

If only the world could clasp love
the way you pressed my fingerprints
into the stained glass window,
like a religion;
dewy as your hair after a bath.
I think I could live forever on every droplet.

Thank god
the stars aligned perfectly
the first day your heart was designed
—a heart that can turn darkness
into the possibility of outer space
dappled with brilliant diamond stars.

Brilliant, you.
Perfect in a bowtie and curls,
yet grappling the Earth with his bare hands.
That’s you, and only you.
My Love.