Little Clouds on the Ocean

You’re in the bathroom emptying my semen
from your body. On the bed, I lay stripped,
my cock, wormed in light, burrowing
into the tangle of other fractures, the veins that orbit back
into darkness.
I stare up into the ceiling; below,
it imitates a fish, pulsing to breathe an air it cannot breathe.
It cowers between my legs; blood exiles
to the brain, as if blood is the ejaculate
of this second, outer heart. All my life,
I have been giving birth to this animal between my life,
but the world is only deep
and immense for a time; your legs around me,
like quotes, fit only briefly,
exclaiming upwards: we are falling,
sinking into the shallowness of the night air,
and into the sheets of our separate dreams,
fading, cum stuck to our flesh, like weak glue,
like the reflections of little clouds on the ocean.