Hollows of light

I dug into the sun with a mining ax

I tore out a strip of hot plasma

I churned it into a hollow of light for you

“You’re not a fucking scientist baby,” you said.

“I know, I’m a poet, but this is not a scientific study.”

it is what my brand of love is made up of.

oxygen, carbon, neon, iron, silicon, and magnesium. Hot plasma, too. Helium, there’s such a shortage of that stuff in the world right now.

Right?

I gave you a thousand balloons just of helium,

I mined the diamonds from the dying star

It is impolite to implode into my heart, dear Star-Searcher

Hollows of light travel from my mouth

Into a goddess’ dream

Starlit, beautiful wonder,

You’re still my Swamp Thing

My Moon-Milk Eyes,

Oh yes, that’s it,

You are fucking

Beautiful.