Written by Briana Olivares, FAF Contributer

Making love is the alchemy
of anarchy.
At any hour, begins the impossible.

Watching our lives like we’re
screening home movies on sheets,
under a perfect blue half-moon, we’re
wrestling ourselves to bed.

Releasing a sweet, soul life-force at
just the
is the launching of a thousand arrows that are
singing our songs, mutually –
not in harmony but

Our words are soaring that way,
our bodies sailing away from the harbors
we refuse to visit anymore.

All the heavy breathing stuff will not be anchored
to the past because
this life is expansive –
fire, even.
If given the oxygen to fulfill its nature,
it consumes
the fitful consciousness of the possessive.

Are you still trying to contain your own fistful of sand?
Let go.
(Ask me how,
I’ll put my mouth
to your ear
tell you.)