a conspiracy to kill the sun;
let's share the peppermint candy moon--

there's no other way to ensure
ourselves sleep than to kill
the sun once and for all--
it was never any use anyway--
burned a hole in the sky
just to teach our faces to freckle--
angry on the eyelids of
un-watered sunflowers-- take the
body of another orchid--
parch lip and body turning
into a raisin-- 
the sun reminds me of being
an altar server--
pull the wick from the 
oil-- shake the matches from 
your hair with me--
don't drip the flame
you wouldn't want to burn 
down another church--
this is for the death of the alarm 
clock-- the confused throat
of the birds
pecking at the hem of the skyline
trying to pull forth 
a speck of light to yell from--
no--
no we could finally do it--
the morning would crawl
back into the sea--
sink step by step
by step-- float on her back
to look up at what had
once been a sky but
is now only the
roofs of our mouths--
she lets us rest but 
feel empty-- 
morning without the sun
is like night witch
all the stars erased-- i feel 
bad for her because i know
what it feels like to be naked--
what we'll do is wake 
up just early enough 
for the sun to be groggy--
catch him in the act of
beginning--
he won't expect two freckled
humans to take such drastic action--
a metal snuffer from
our days as acolytes--
walk behind me with incense so
the world knows it's a funeral--
he died like any king--
mouth full of fury and
fear-- we burned our hands for
you-- for the silencing 
of this obscene star
who prompts us
to awaken-- you have nothing
left to wake you but yourselves--
we are free from the impending nature
of a sun rise-- branded hot
into our temples--
the moon comes like
a hard peppermint candy--
wipes the freckles from our
faces-- drinks our pigments 
to leave us bleached 
incantations of a dream--
the same dream where we
wake up in each other's bodies--
write poems on our backs
in water--
this is life without
the sun-- you hold the candle snuffer
this time and
i'll be the incense--
never believe someone if
they ask you to wake 
up before the moon
trust me
trust me--
you'll like it more when 
we light
the candles--
pull our fire from in between
the creases in our hands--
finger-paint a cloud
on the scaring 
face of the
playground of the stars--
they'll soon forget the angry
face of their father--
like we all do--