In the alley, we raised
arms to flight,
matching the kiss we threw
through windows of skirts
and police search lights.

Outside the theatre,
the music, late from switching cars,
put strings on a drum
and hung horns from the balcony,
where I proposed.

You asked what my hands knew
when you bit me;
why my heart stood guard,
where are the ribbons
that held our hips 'til morning,
how is a rainbow going to press
between pages of chocolate ?

We've rehearsed this promenade,
and now to the moon.
No fanfare,  just the bride
a down beat
and groom.

When a man, meaning me,
loves a woman, meaning you,
he leaves her his skin
and walks raw in the world,
gathering bits of halo
to make a home.

What returns to him,
brighter than frosted breath,
is the purpose of sun on roses,
an altar of stars
in bloom.
Will SchmitComment