an exchange

after Paul Celan

we lie in a bed between summer & autumn. outside, the almond trees rest, and we’re stuck in a sky of a darker blue. i weep at you behind heavy hair. the sea brine tastes bitter. you drink your dream & tell stories of strange places & the dead birds you found there. when your flask empties, you progress to teeth. 

it begins to rain in our room. i’m only wearing a necklace of hands. you offer me a smile & a bowl of bloodied cherries. it’s almond-bitter.

in the half-dusk, i find a crumb of light: a shard of sapphire & lust. i consider it in my palm, its water-colored effulgence, and present it to you in return. i look for your eye when you open it. and like a poppy, you proffer yourself in the dark, speak my name, and lead me to you. 

i become bitter. 
you count me among the almonds.