by Nathan D. Metz
Between blue
and purple, how
many little kingdoms
fold and unfold?
An origami
of shades and stages
where waits
a steadiness to stand on,
where forms
the shape and the color
of a moment
I can hold
in my extended and open hand.
After our first night,
I woke beside you,
before you,
and tiptoed to the bathroom.
In the window,
early morning moon.
Your sleeping breath
opening slightly, closing slightly.
In the mirror, I found
a patch of touch still
warm, settled
on the ground of my neck,
at the crest of my collarbone.
Shaded indigo.
Nathan D. Metz (he/his) is a writer currently living in the Bay Area of California. His work has been published in Prometheus Dreaming, Ample Remains, and other great journals, and he is the current Poetry Editor for the Santa Clara Review. He has received scholarships/fellowships from the Elk River Writers Workshop and the Canterbury Program. He loves poetry and he loves you.