I think of you

In the awkward years
                 after Creation:

while glaciers stumbled over lands
where fig leaves would one day grow
and offer themselves as vanity;

where the premise of a man and a woman
rise cave to textured wall and
splinter the drift;

where what I do each morning
begins at the ends
and strokes back toward the scalp;

while every night before I sleep you
still brightly shine.

I am reminded every night
that stars and contraceptives reserve
the tables next to you, within you,

and that I would rather
eat oceans alone.

About Author
Sean Mahoney:
Sean lives with his wife, her parents, three dogs, and an Uglydoll in Santa Ana, CA. They have been there a year now. He works in geophysics after studying literature and poetry in school. Go figure. The palateras frequent their street and ring their bells. They ring their bells quite often. With the help of aspirin and water Sean recovers. After he has eaten of course.