Above (Deconstructed)

It is your neck I see from here
that is viscous with sunlight,
shrugging off clouds
and rising into them,
in disbelief at their solidness,
and wet comforting fluff
that is sky all around you
(because technically it is all
sky we breathe and sleep and fall
around). We except ourselves
from sky; it is as much between
the sun and I as I and you,
a sky apart midst what I suppose
are clouds, stepping over what
might be rainbows on ground
(that is still ground). That much
is the same, still, and it connects
us as well, most of the time,
but not like the sky or space
called aether by those
who insist nothingness
is a silly idea (with whom I
am sympathetic). So I swim
through your sky and kiss you.