In the nape of gallows dreams hung is the vision of you dancing naked in front of me  Tango tremble, my rough hands trace dance floors across skin discotheque. Lip-sync your poetry into the night’s vase my fist will bloom your portrait to lie next...

Of you and tiny rooms  where dripping taps  curate yearning museums  beside the kitchen sink     Of ellipses...eclipse of rain behind madness,   we rise as sunrise  saluting never-ending noon,  what lies beyond was the moon   underneath blankets, undressing    Of you and travelling in (f)light  literary terrorists aboard fighter...