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