The universe just wants to let you know
that if you aren’t engaged Saturday night
it would love a chance to change into something
less universal and more intimate and then come
through your window with breathtaking intentions
as amatory as they are ambulatory and hoist you
into its silken welkin or creamy empyrean or any
other archaic words for firmament you prefer
and then proceed to entangle your most secret
pinings in the loveliest evening ever to evolve
from the oceans’ thighs and mountains’ tongues
and though you won’t remember a shred of it,
this evening will dwelleth thereafter in your every
nerve and organ and you will be able to draw from its
pinkened echoes a planetary courage whenever your wherewithal
is under fire from any forces in the universe who, after all,
I am and always will be. I just wanted to let you know.

*this is the second in a five-day series of poems The Opiate is publishing by Connolly Ryan. Read Day 1 here.