This hot burning star we move around and hound like a first-lover
Found all bound with sunshine gushing down
From that that blow-torched perforation in the blue
That you want to drink from
A drink so strong you can’t … even.
But what a drink!
You want to tip it to your lips
It’s a spiller all over you it goes
And they call it sunburn red blistering layers
Now in you and on you like a rush of teenage romance—and it’s all teenage.
And I wish so wish I was there
In that skin-sun again drinking that star
On days when the heavens were so right and bright and up there on the height.
(Peter Volkofsky May 2014)