blue

Dawn’s light cast blue shadows that morning your arm was wrapped around me, fingertips stained with blue ink.

Your mouth was a vacuum cleaner on my shoulder

as if to remove the dust from the crevices of my heart through it you’d suck—

And leave a little oval of blue.

I didn’t know my shoulder was connected to my heart but I’d feel the dust lift, somehow turning 

weighty shag to floaty silk.

I tasted blue on your lips like you’d eaten blueberries; I think I was de-blue-sional

and morning breath was masked by the overwhelming tidal waves of you 

Consumed me, I was krill and you were a blue whale. 

If you squint, I have blue ink stains all over me 

still.