he ahi i loko e kūkū mai ka pō i
ka lā
i hope the lights of your ancestors quiver for you tonight, love, the way
you carefully – prod
the waxing fire i carry beneath my ribcage – the
one that licks at my lungs each
time you smile you
the mana wahine i found in happenstance and
tundra you
the warrior i watch driving to work in that bouncing chew
toy we’ve come to love as a car
you / you
mahina ke alo
is not enough to capture the soft snow of your
flushed cheeks that grazed mine the last time we
embraced and i’m sorry i let my hand wander the mountain ridges of your back
under the thick canopy of your cotton black hoodie
but know i’d do it again if it meant seeing summer
lemons on your breath
e hopu nā hōkū
and for my error of instinctive intimacy –
earthbound
magnetism – i’ll let you snare
my namesakes in the molasses of your eyes
the big dipper is no match for you.
and please don’t spare any of them
reel me in to the quiet of your calves let me
taste the sweet of your nothings and drink
of the aurora i’ve missed in your every touch let me
rest my lips on the tip of you
ursa minora
palms wrapped in the night
silk of your hair alit
only by the koa tangle in mine let me nestle
in the furrowed den of your thumb and pointer
let me show you the way with
mine
he kaiulu, he kaiāulu
and i hope, love, the next time you
see water, you think of me, and the salmon, and just how far we’d travel
to replenish your stomach with
all the love you’ve given away to the ones who’ve needed it – now it’s you
you who shares her warmth in a seeping cabin
you who buys the strange girl a stiff drink
you who stifles the urge to kiss her and admits it when she’s left,
you / well
a hui hou / until we meet again